In the Event of My Death
by KarenZ
Summary: Fam Channel Zorro: Diego is believed to be dead. Felipe delivers letters to his father and Victoria explaining everything. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: Tammy and I decided to take an idea (in this case, letters Felipe delivers after Diego is dead) and see how differently our stories came out. Hers is titled "Never Let Go."

This is my version. Please notice that the timeline jumps back and forth. Some scenes are present day; some are up to three months before present day.

In the Event of my Death

Chapter 1

Pueblo de Los Angeles

September 14th

Felipe stared at the sealed envelope in his hands. Two tears fell on the stark white of its surface which was only marred by the words "To Victoria – In the Event of my Death."

He hurriedly wiped the salty tears from the paper, hoping the ink would not smear and was relieved when it did not. Everything that had belonged to his master, his friend, the father of his heart, was too important to mar in any way.

Three months. It was time. It was time to do what he needed to do, what he had promised faithfully to do. He needed to deliver two letters and this was the one he dreaded the most. Women could get hysterical over nothing. What would the señorita do when she read this? His own emotions were so raw, he didn't know if he could handle an emotional outburst from Victoria.

He had watched her over the past few months, slowly coming to realize, from his absence, that Diego was far more important to her than she had ever allowed. Slowly, day by day, she had come to miss Diego even more than she missed Zorro. He could see it in her actions, hear it in her voice. And once Diego had been reported actually missing at sea, he had seen her emotions become more fierce.

The other letter lay on the table among the dusty vials, beakers, and crucibles. Zorro's laboratory. It was scarcely needed now, and Felipe could not stand being in the cave by himself. He only went there these days to feed, water and exercise Tornado. Too many memories surrounded him there. Pleasant memories, but they were of a person he missed too terribly to allow them near too often.

Three months earlier…

June 1st

The _Perro__ Salado_

Diego waved good-bye to his father and Felipe from the bow of the ship, the _Perro__ Salado_. He had waited far too long to make this trip back to Spain. There were affairs that needed attention, and one visit, in particular, that he must make. It was time to speak to the King.

There would be no better time to go than now either. The alcalde was taking a leave of absence from his duties to attend, he said, a conference with the Governor. He was to follow that with a holiday at some unknown destination. There was rampant speculation that the alcalde had taken a mistress in San Diego and that was the true nature of his travels, but no one really cared; they just felt lucky to be rid of him.

Diego was relieved that for most of his own time away from the pueblo, De Soto would be gone as well.

A few weeks' voyage at sea and Diego would be presented at court. Once he was within the King's inner chambers, he planned on asking for a royal pardon for a certain black-caped outlaw. His father had assured him that the family's name alone would guarantee that the King would listen and believe what he had to say. At least, he only hoped it would happen that way.

Diego turned to go below to while away the time reading. He'd brought along plenty of books for the journey and he was eager to start. There would be no need for Zorro on this trip. He had forbidden Felipe to even pack his sword. No, only Diego de la Vega would be along this time.

For four days, the weather held and the ship glided through the blue waves at a nice clip. The men grew quite fond of their sole passenger. Diego was relaxed and at ease with life itself. It showed greatly in his rapport with the men

In times of leisure, he found himself engaged in all kinds of endeavors with the men. Games of chance, musical challenges and a fair amount of roughhousing broke out on board wherever he went. They were amazed at his knowledge, his talents, and his physical abilities, and for the first time in a long while, Diego was glad to be appreciated for all he could do. Not since he was at University in Madrid had he allowed himself to be himself so totally. It was truly liberating.

Then the storm appeared on the horizon. Decisions were made to go south around the edge to avoid the brunt of it and the new course was set. It would set them back another week on the schedule but it could not be helped.

The captain watched the skies, glad he'd made the decision to detour around the storm. The clouds rolling in from the East had an angry look to them and he was in no mind to risk his ship to that kind of weather. With no perishable cargo to worry about and only one passenger, it would make little difference anyway.

He smiled as he thought of the young caballero aboard. He had grown quite fond of Diego de la Vega as they had discussed all manner of things related to the long voyage. The captain could not remember having such a passenger before, for his thirst for knowledge was truly insatiable. De la Vega's eagerness to learn and the captain's propensity to talk were a good match.

For his part, Diego found that he could learn much from this crusty old sea captain. Irish by birth, his language was peppered with curses and there would be no way the man would ever fit in a crowd of Diego's usual companions, but he was certainly an interesting person to listen to for hours on end.

On the fifth of June, that is exactly what Diego was doing. He had heard five different versions of the current story the captain was relating and this one Diego knew he could not even begin to record in his journal for posterity. It was vulgar and unbelievable and thoroughly entertaining. It seemed as if the entire crew had gathered round and paused in their work to eavesdrop on the tale.

And that was probably the reason why no one noticed the swiftly encroaching dark clouds.

It took barely ninety minutes for the ship to be torn apart. The fight to save her was futile from the start and every man on board knew it when the first gigantic wave hit. It was as if the ocean exchanged places with the sky. The water filled the ship's hull so quickly there was no use in trying to save anything of the cargo. It would be all the crew could do to save themselves. The second wave hit and Diego felt the breath leave his body when a part of the foremast came crashing down and knocked him to the deck. He was not even conscious when the bosun's mate lashed him to the largest chunk of the wooden mast, now stripped of its sail.

June 10th

The _Remanente_came across the wreckage five days later. Only two survivors were plucked from the still roiling waters. They were near death from thirst, sun, and cold, but they were alive and they had a tale to tell. The two mates were Portuguese, and they told their story and waited patiently while one who knew that tongue relayed their story to the captain of the rescuing ship.

Forty-two men had signed on to sail to Spain, but there had been only one paying passenger. An important man. They could not remember the name, but there was no mistaking that he was of a noble house. His bearing, his manners, they all spoke of great wealth and they knew him to be special. They could see it in his eyes.

"His eyes?" the captain questioned. The list of adjectives these two were finding to describe this sole passenger was beginning to sound awfully suspect. Either they were dealing with a figment of these men's imaginations from their week-long trial at sea, or the passenger was someone very important. In the latter case, they would, at the very least, have to file some reports, and they should perhaps even attempt to make a cursory search of the immediate area.

"Yes, Captain, they both say he had the eyes of the eagle. He saw everything. He knew everything."

"Yes, yes, I do get the point they are trying to make. So why, pray tell, did this god-like being even need a ship in the first place? He could have just walked to Spain, from the sound of these two!" His patience was wearing thin and he didn't have the time for nonsense like this. Reading between the lines, this passenger was just some rich caballero, but a rich caballero that was on his way to an audience with the King of Spain. "There's nothing for it but to make a quick search of the area and any outlying islands. I don't want to take too much time. If the other crew members didn't make it, there's not much chance this man did either, no matter how impressive a figure he cut to these men. I wonder exactly what he did in the few days he was aboard that makes them speak of him that way though. I really wonder…" He stroked his beard thoughtfully and then left the men to return to his charts.

The search went swiftly, too swiftly, the survivors complained. If any man could reach safety, it was the caballero. They wanted to extend the search.

"There are islands to the south," they said. "He could have made it to them and—"

But the captain would have none of it. No one could have swum that far from the wreckage they had thus far found. No, he was gone and the reports would be filed. Diego de la Vega was dead. It was a certainty.

Diego's eyes stung with salt water and bright sunlight. He struggled to open his eyes against the glaring sun rays of a bright hot day. Everything hurt. His head, his back, even his wrist. Forcing his eyelids open, he fought to sit up and failed. The world around him swirled in a kaleidoscope of colors and slowly settled into shades of blue and white. Blinking against the brilliant light, Diego recognized a clear blue sky above him and white sand on his right. He was lying on his side with his body twisted strangely at an awkward angle and he couldn't even see his hurting wrist. Puzzled, he looked above him to the right and saw the reason why. His right hand had become entangled in a mass of rope attached to the large piece of wood beneath his back. The tight binding was beginning to cut into the flesh. One strand of the rope extended down across his chest and disappeared under the huge chunk of mast. His left arm was twisted behind his body wrapped up in some kind of wet cloth covered in sea weed.

The water beneath him swelled as a small wave rolled over his legs. For a few minutes, Diego just lay there. Trying to remember what had happened, he thought back to the ship and the storm, and the events all fell into place in his mind. Gathering his strength, he pulled with his left arm until he worked it free of whatever had held it. The effort was exhausting and once again he rested.

The sun was unrelenting and he could feel it burning his exposed skin. The difference in temperature of the hot sun and the cool water that flowed beneath him at regular intervals as the surf swelled under his body helped revive him. Wave by wave, he slowly felt his strength renewed.

He turned full on his right side and began pulling at the rope that bound his wrist and working the knotted, wet strands with his left hand. Many minutes later, he was able to work the knots loose enough to slide his hand from the looped rope. He massaged the wrist to get the circulation going again and sat up to survey the scene. The beach stretched before him and behind him clear to the horizon. Twenty yards to his right began a tangle of palm trees and low shrubs. To his left, there was nothing but the sea.

"Water," he said in a raspy, whispery voice.

"Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink," Diego quoted hoarsely as he stared out on the expanse of sea that lay before him. His lips were chapped and peeling. The skin of his face and hands and parts of his chest sunburned to a painful red. "Dehydrated," he thought wryly, staring at the unending ocean.

Getting unsteadily to his feet, Diego made for the palm trees, falling down several times along the way. Each time, he forced himself to get up and try once more. Before night fell, he had to find a source of water. He didn't know how long he'd been without it, but he could tell by the tightness in his throat it had been too long.

Above him, the coconuts grew abundantly in the palms and they could provide moisture for him, but he didn't think he had the strength left to break into one, much less climb to obtain one. No, he needed a stream, a pond, even a large puddle of fresh water would do at this point.

He set off to find it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

September 14th

"Felipe!" Don Alejandro spoke the name, even knowing the boy could not hear him, as he reached out a hand to spin the boy to face him. "Felipe, I need you to help me in the library. Don't disappear on me again," he chided.

Felipe nodded and obediently followed Alejandro. The pair of drooping shoulders betrayed the somber feelings of both. The house was not officially a house of mourning yet, but it would be only a matter of time before Don Alejandro would allow those who lived there to face the harsh reality.

Diego was dead.

The sadness hung heavy over the household like a shroud. Three months of waiting for word, any word, of Diego's whereabouts had slowly taken its toll on everyone. Alejandro had tried to remain hopeful, but it was all too real to him now. _Lost at sea._ Such a strange epitaph!

He shook his head and called up a smile, even if it was one tinged with a bit of sadness. Felipe was standing there waiting on him.

"Here. Help me lift this so I can attach it here. See?" He had been trying to lift the planter alone, but his own strength was failing him these days. The thought that he might need to go see Doctor Hernandez crossed his mind, but, just as quickly as it had come, he pushed it aside.

Felipe lifted the weight easily. It was difficult for him to see Alejandro have such a hard time doing such a small task. But ever since word had come that Diego had been lost, Alejandro had begun to lose weight. He barely ate these days, barely even left the hacienda. It was a solitary existence he lived these days, only occasionally coming around to make an effort for Felipe's sake.

They both were so intent on getting the large container suspended from the overhead wooden beam that they didn't even notice as Victoria Escalante swept into the room, followed by a tall man in uniform.

"Don Alejandro!" she cried. Her voice was loud and she brought into the room an energy that was rare in these dark days. "There may be word!"

"Victoria! How nice to see you, my child." Don Alejandro almost choked when the word came from his mouth. _His child._ _His Lost child_. But Victoria was continuing her excited announcement.

"This man, Corporal Sanchez, is from the regiment in San Pedro. He says a man has been found there wandering the beach, dazed. He could be Diego!" She was smiling happily as she urged the man forward into the room to give his story.

"Welcome, Corporal. News, you say? Tell me about this man." Don Alejandro tried to act interested, tried to seem to care, but he knew this new sighting of his son would end like all the rest of them. It would not be Diego but some other poor soul who had met with an accident. He'd been through this too many times before to hope too much.

"Yes, Sir, You see, I was on my way back to the harbor late last Thursday night when I came across this man. He has no memory and he's not saying much. But he sounds like he might be your son, or at least there's a possibility." He looked back and forth between the hopeful look of the señorita and the doubtful look of the elder man.

"I see. And just how tall would you say this man is?" Don Alejandro asked simply.

"About your height, I'd say, possibly a bit shorter."

"No!" Victoria sobbed the word. "No, no, it _has_ to be him!" She broke down in tears and collapsed into a nearby chair, crying uncontrollably.

Don Alejandro crossed the room and knelt at her feet. "Victoria, I'm sorry. I am so sorry." He reached for her hands and pulled them from her face. "Please. You have got to stop this. You are grasping at every little hope there is of finding him. I did too, at first. But it is about time we realized that he's gone."

"No!" she whispered through her sobs. "You can't. He is alive. I would know if he were dead!" She was getting hysterical and the words came out angrily. "Diego would never be lost, not like this! He would never—"

"But he is lost. He's lost to us. Felipe —" He turned to ask the boy to get some water for the señorita, but the boy had disappeared. "Not again," he said with a sigh. "Every time anything is said about Diego, he runs off. What is happening to us all!"

The corporal stood there shifting his weight from side to side, unsure what to do next. "Sir?"

"What? Oh, yes, Corporal. I forgot you for a moment there." Don Alejandro rose to his feet and turned from the crying woman, shaking his head. "I'm afraid, you see, that your man is not my son. My son is quite tall, much taller than I. You would have noticed that. I am afraid you have made your journey for nothing."

"Perhaps. But there was another man too. He was found up near San Pedro. He was in pretty bad shape and he died after several days. The people who found him said he spoke in his delirium of a caballero aboard his ship. He was very impressed with the young man, declaring the sea could not hold such a one. And this man said that the caballero was seen drifting south, away from the rest of the wreckage."

"Well, I thank you, Corporal, but I don't see that this makes much difference."

Victoria's sobs grew louder and Don Alejandro seemed to be torn as to what to do. "Corporal, my son has been missing three long months. These men are obviously not my son and the two men we've already heard about were found fairly quickly after the ship went down. Three months, Señor. It is a long time. A long time indeed. So you see, I don't think you offer me," he turned to look at Victoria who still cried with her head in her hands, "or rather, _us_ much hope. I thank you for coming. Do you need a ride back to the pueblo? I think the Señorita should remain here for now…"

"No, Don Alejandro. Thank you, but I have my own mount. I am sorry too. I only thought to help…"

"Yes, yes, I am sure. And I do appreciate your efforts, Corporal, really. But if you'll excuse…" He raised his hands in a helpless gesture. He was not sure how he was going to comfort the señorita when he felt none himself.

"Of course, Sir. Your servant." And the young corporal left the two bereaved people to their sorrows.

"Victoria, please, my dear. You must—"

Her head came up as she declared, "Give up? As _yo_u have! Never…never…" and the tears began to flow again. Between sobs, she gasped out the rest. "I have no one to turn to now. Even Zorro has deserted us in this time. He hasn't been seen in so long, I wonder if he has even heard of Diego's …disappearance." She looked up at Alejandro, her eyes wet and shining. "Have you heard from him?" she asked hopefully.

"No, I am afraid not, my dear. But Zorro chooses his own time to come forward. And though this is puzzling, he's been known to go far afield in giving his aid to people who need it. There's not much he could do in this case anyway." He looked around him. "Now, where did Felipe go? I'll have him see to your horse. You are staying here tonight. I'll not have you going back to the pueblo tonight."

Casting one long look at her from the doorway, he turned to leave her to go find Felipe. This kind of reaction from Victoria had been totally unexpected at first, but after a while, he'd finally guessed that her feelings for his son had been much deeper than even she had guessed. It was such a pity she had found it out now when it was too late. "All these years," he mumbled softly as he went down the hallway, "all these years wasted."

The room grew quiet as Victoria tried desperately to control her sobs.

The huge clock on the mantel counted out the seconds, ticking loudly in the room so richly decorated in the exquisite taste of Diego's late mother. Wondering sadly if she were now greeting her only son in the great hereafter, Victoria shut her eyes tightly against the thought.

"No!" she said aloud to the empty room. _He is not dead. _

She jumped at the touch of someone at her elbow. Grasping at her throat with one hand, she turned to see Felipe standing there, timidly offering her a long white envelope.

"Felipe! You startled me. I thought…never mind what I thought. Oh, Felipe, how are you?" She turned at once into the nurturing female. This lad had been like a son to Diego. She couldn't imagine how this had affected him.

Felipe dipped his head and shoved the envelope towards her once more.

"What is this?" she asked, even as she turned the envelope over in her hands to see the bold handwriting on its front — "_To __Victoria-__ In the event of my death_"

She sat and stared at it for a full minute, listening to that dreadful ticking all the while. Death. The word had been written when Diego was very much alive. The clock's ticking grew louder in her ears and she turned toward it, fully expecting it to have grown in size as well. The whole room tilted at an odd angle with shimmering heat waves distorting her vision before a white veil descended all around her and she fainted.

"Victoria!" Don Alejandro had come back into the room just in time to keep the girl from hitting the floor.

"Felipe, Go and fetch some water. No, she's all right. Just fainted." He picked her up in his arms with ease and said, "I'm going to take her to Diego's room. Bring it there." And as Felipe turned and ran, he shouted after him, "Tell Consuela I need her too!"

Thankfully, Alejandro's strength came at such a moment and he hurriedly carried the unconscious girl down the hallway and into his son's room where he laid her gently on the bedcovers. Crossing to the table that held pitcher and bowl, he found that no water remained, a sad reminder of just how long the room had gone unused. Even the water had evaporated into thin air, just like his son.

Consuela and Felipe came into the room together. Consuela leaned over the girl on the bed and immediately began dunking the cloth she had brought with her in the bowl of water Felipe held in one hand. In the other he held out a full pitcher of cool water for Don Alejandro.

"What happened?" she demanded as if the fault lay with the man present. "What did you do to her?" Consuela had worked a long time in this household and could get away with such familiarity with her employer.

"I? Nothing! Nothing. She just fainted… it must be the heat. She's distraught. Felipe, you were there," he turned to question the boy, "did she—" But Felipe was gone.

"I swear! That boy," Don Alejandro began and then stopped when he realized Victoria was slowly opening her eyes. Consuela offered her a drink as soon as she seemed well enough to take it.

Sipping slowly, the room seemed to settle down into normality for Victoria. "I'm sorry. Did I faint?" she asked, embarrassed at the whole situation.

"Yes, Señorita, but you are fine now. Just relax. These men! They do not know how to treat ladies, do they? Just drink a bit more, dear. There you go."

Don Alejandro rolled his eyes as Consuela continued to soothe Victoria and berate all men for the problems of the world.

He had turned to look about the room, remembering so many good things about his son, when Felipe entered once more.

This time, he gave the envelope to Don Alejandro.

"What's this?" Don Alejandro asked, and watched as Felipe signed that it was for the Señorita. He brought out another similar envelope from behind his back and gave that one to Don Alejandro as well, indicating that this one was for him.

Both women's eyes were now on him. Victoria was looking fearfully at the envelopes and breathing heavily. Tears threatened to spill once more as her emotions came back in force.

_"To Father — in the event of my death,"_ Don Alejandro read aloud. Victoria watched his face as he read the words and realized just how much that face had aged in the past three months. She didn't think Don Alejandro could take this any more than she could.

"Don't! Don't read it!" she cried from the bed. Sitting up quickly, she clasped a hand over her own mouth to keep from crying out anything else.

"Victoria, perhaps it is time." He came to the bedside and sat down beside her, signaling to both Felipe and Consuela to leave them. "I admit, I am surprised this has hit you so hard, my dear," he said softly. "I knew you and Diego were good friends, but —"

"But, don't you see? We weren't just friends. He was…no! No! He _is _my best friend. No matter what you say, I will not believe him dead. He is not. I know it and you should too!" She let her anger grab hold. Anger was better than sorrow. It gave one strength! "Diego is… Diego. He is always there when you need him."

At the strange look her words earned her from Don Alejandro, she gave a small tearful laugh. "No, I mean it. When we have ever really needed him, he's always been there. No one could ask for a better friend, a more caring man, a more intelligent man." She reached up to wipe away a tear. "I just can't believe I took him for granted all these years. Now I can see —" She gulped back another sob. "I see things so much clearer now." She wiped at her eyes again and said firmly. "You just put those letters away!"

"Thank you. Thank you for the kind words about my son. It's good to hear them." He looked down at both letters in his hands. "But there has been enough time passed now that these need to be opened. I don't know what my son would want to tell me at such a time as this, but we do need to honor his wishes, do we not?"

"His wishes! His wishes would be for us to find him!" And her tears began to fall once more as she broke down crying, leaning into Don Alejandro's arms.

"There, there, now. It will be all right," he mumbled to the top of her head as she shook with the sobs that wracked her body.

_Find him! If they only could! _His own tears would not come. For some reason, he had not cried for the loss of his son yet. Maybe he was just too tired of it all. Tired of the searching for clues, for any bits of information that might lead to the knowledge of what had truly happened to his son .

So he sat there and comforted the young girl who had always berated his son throughout his life and who now cried her heart out for him at his death. Why had she never realized the depth of her feelings for Diego when he was alive?

Consuela came to the door once more and silently, she and Don Alejandro communicated to each other that the girl would be staying the night. It would be best. If things had only turned out differently, if she'd only realized these feelings for Diego sooner, this might even have been her home.

As Alejandro prepared for bed, the words of the Corporal came back to him. "The sea could not hold such a one." That was what the sailor had said. Alejandro sighed and slipped beneath the covers. As he extinguished the candle by his bed, another thought came to him. "Why does it always sound like they're talking about Zorro instead of Diego?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Victoria awoke after darkness had fallen. She looked about the room in a panic for a few minutes before realizing, at last, where she was.

_Diego's room._

Her eyes adjusted to the moonlit room slowly, and in a few minutes, she could see quite clearly the simple, but elegant, furnishings around her. The dark woods of the wardrobe and the tables blended in with the dark shadows, but the rich cloth of the drapes and coverings told, even in near darkness, of the wealth that had furnished this room.

The pillow was still damp beneath her hand. She had cried long and hard as Consuela had fussed over her after Don Alejandro had left the room. Sleep had claimed her finally through the sheer exhaustion of simply trying to breathe.

She got up out of bed and padded across in her bare feet to the wardrobe. She wore a long nightgown that had belonged to Elena de la Vega and it rustled slightly as she moved. Being careful to not make a sound and awaken the rest of the household, she opened the wardrobe doors. There, neatly hanging in carefully measured intervals, were Diego's jackets, shirts and pants. Running her hands amid the folds of the expensive, tailored clothing, she inhaled the scent of Diego that clung lightly to the garments he had worn.

There were blues, browns, and whites in the closet. Nothing very elaborate and every item understated and classic. That was Diego. The thought occurred to her then that he had spent a good deal of effort to be …overlooked. And that was exactly what she had done. She had overlooked him.

Turning away from the thought and the wardrobe, she approached the bureau. A small wooden box lay on top of it, exactly in the center. Her mind took in that fact with surprise at the exactness of it. Just like the clothes in the closet. She looked quickly about the room.

Everything was precisely placed. Somehow the thought was jarring to her mind. It didn't fit with Diego. Diego was not a fastidious person. He scarcely gave a thought to how he looked most of the time, how he —"

"Victoria." The voice was like a whisper carried by the wind, barely more than that, and she whirled around towards the sound quickly.

But no one was there. Only silence.

She went quickly to the door of the room, opened it and stepped into the hallway. No one was there. She shut the door, went back inside and crossed to the window to look out into the moonlit nightscape. Still, no one was there.

Chills swept up her spine and she shivered in the night air. Had she imagined someone saying her name?

No, not someone — _Zorro_. She had heard Zorro's voice. Her breathing had sped up and she found she was clutching tightly the silk of the nightdress at her throat.

Forcing her own hands to relax and her breathing to calm, she slowly sat down on the edge of the bed. Imagination could run wild at night. She knew that. She had awakened from a sound sleep and in a strange bedroom and there was even the possibility Don Alejandro had put something in the milk she'd had before bed. It was no wonder she was imagining she had heard a voice.

She reached for the water glass on the bedside table and her hand brushed the letter off the stand and onto the floor. The bright white rectangle of paper at her feet glowed brightly as it reflected the moonlight and the bold writing on the surface captured her attention.

The word "death" leapt up off the paper and danced in front of her eyes.

Calmly, she leaned down, picked up the envelope, and placed it carefully on the nightstand with the writing facedown. She swallowed hard, struggling to control her emotions. The glass in her hand was empty and she closed her eyes and blocked all thoughts that tried to connect any significance to that emptiness.

"That's easily remedied," she whispered to no one in the room. "I can just go to the kitchen and get some more water."

"Water!"

Victoria stood and spun around, looking for the person who had spoken. There was no one there.

"I heard that!" she whispered harshly to herself. "I know I did!" Still, nothing but a dimly lit, lonely room could be seen. Stilling her own trembling hands, she reached for the tinderbox on the nightstand and shakily lit the candle there. Pulling the matching robe over her nightdress, and without even looking around the room once more, she went quickly through the door and into the hallway.

"Elena!" Don Alejandro clutched at his chest in surprise. For one brief moment, he had thought his dear departed wife was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Then he released a long sigh as sanity took hold of him once more. "Victoria! I'm sorry. You startled me. I thought for a minute that—"

"Oh, Don Alejandro, I'm so sorry. I didn't know you were here. I didn't think…" She realized the sight she must have presented to him in the darkened room in her borrowed clothes.

"It is a strange night tonight, isn't it?" He gestured for her to take a seat at the long table that dominated one end of the huge kitchen. "Are you hungry as well? I am. Neither of us ate much this evening. Now, let's see what Maria's larder holds that will make a nice midnight snack for us both? Heh?"

She could tell he was forcing the cheerfulness he was displaying, but playing along was much better than admitting to what she had just imagined.

"Yes, a snack would be nice. I just couldn't sleep tonight." She took a seat at the table and was able to smile at the sight of the older caballero trying to find his way about a kitchen. "Uh, Don Alejandro, did you say anything out loud just before I came in here?"

"No, dear, I tried to be as quiet as I could. Now, would you rather have eggs or some nice flan? At least, I think I could manage eggs…"

"Oh, the flan would be nice," she said, knowing the flan was all prepared and would be less trouble.

"Ahh… flan, it is then." He went about preparing a dish for both of them and poured some milk to go along with it. Victoria sat quietly all the while, just waiting and calming her frayed nerves, hoping to present much more of a serene exterior than she really felt.

"Here we are, Victoria. I know it's good because I had some for lunch." He sat down across from her, wondering briefly at the appropriateness of it all. It was just as well that Maria was sound asleep. She'd never approve of him eating in the kitchen like this, much less entertaining a guest, and in his nightclothes too!

Their eyes met and both smiled.

"Is Maria …" Victoria pointed toward the door at the far end of the kitchen.

"Yes. You know, it might be best if we moved all this to the dining room. I should not like to wake her."

"Then let's do it." She stood up and reached for the dishes with a well-practiced ease and balanced them on her arm and hand and then took up the napkins and spoons with the other. Don Alejandro carried the glasses of milk and they both padded in their bare feet down the hallway and into the dining room.

It was darker in this room, for there was no oven with glowing coals to light up the space. Don Alejandro had some of the candles of the candelabrum lit within minutes and they provided a limited glow about the room that failed to reach into the far corners. They sat in chairs next to each other so their conversation could be kept quiet, even though they were more removed from the rest of the household now.

"Much better, isn't it?"

"Not quite as cozy as the kitchen though," Victoria replied.

"No, no. But I always feel as if the kitchen belongs to Maria."

"But it's your house!" Victoria objected.

He chuckled lightly but the laugh never reached his eyes. Then he asked in a very serious tone, "Did you read the letter, Victoria?"

She paused with the glass half way to her lips. "No, I couldn't bear to. I just couldn't." She shook her head. "It would be like admitting he's not coming back."

"Victoria, it's been three months. The chances are—"

"He's not dead!" She whispered the words that she had been saying over and over in her mind. "He's not dead. He's not."

"Why can you not believe it?"

"Do you?" It was an accusation.

Don Alejandro looked down at his hands. "Yes, my dear. I think I do. But then, I've seen so much more death than you have in your short life. Maybe it's easier for me to accept such a possibility."

Victoria reached over and placed her hand on his to comfort him. "Victoria, you need to read the letter."

"Don Alejandro,—"

"Dear, I don't know exactly what he would have said in yours. Your relationship was … well, I'm not entirely sure now what your relationship was …"

"Diego was my best friend. You…he… had to know that." Her eyes glistened in the candlelight for the tears were close at hand. "He was —" She stopped. It was the first time she had referred to Diego in the past tense and the significance screamed at her.

"He was more than that, I think. Why else would you be so upset?" He stood up, letting her hand fall away from his. "I'll be back. Wait here."

"Don Alejandro, where…" Her words were lost on the empty room. She saw the flames of the candles flicker from the movement he'd made in leaving her. The dark edges of the room seemed to encroach upon her minute by minute and she half feared she'd again hear the strange whispers like she had before in Diego's room.

"Oh, Diego!" She let the tears fall and her head fell forward on her arms on the table.

"There, there, my child." Don Alejandro had come back. She looked up at him through tousled hair and swimming tears and saw he held the unopened letter from her, no – from Diego's nightstand.

"You need to read this. If he told you the same thing that he told me, I think it would be best if you read it while someone else who could share it with you was there. And I am the only one that can be that person." He placed the letter in her hand and closed her fingers around it.

"But I don't think I want to …" Violent sobs shook her small frame and she struggled for breath. "I don't …think I can…" She wiped at her eyes with one hand and tried to collect her thoughts and then her words came tumbling out as muddled as her thoughts. "Oh, why couldn't I have seen Diego for what he was to me! You know how I dismissed him, overlooked him. I all but ignored him…took him for granted in every way I could have. When I think of the times I should have taken time out of my day just to talk to him, ask him his opinion. Don Alejandro, he was so intelligent! Did you know that he was so intelligent?" She looked up at the man almost expecting this to be a new thought to him.

"I know, dear, I know. More intelligent than we ever dreamed of too, it seems. Victoria, read the letter," he insisted once more.

She wiped again at her eyes and focused on the envelope, so stark, so white even in the darkened room. "All right, I will. But only because you insist." She slid a finger underneath the seal and pulled the page from the envelope. "Not because I think he's dead though," she shot a warning glance at him, "because I just can't believe…" She let her own words die away as her eyes began to see the words, Diego's words, written there.

Dear Victoria,

If you are reading this letter, it is because something has parted me from you forever. It is strange to write this as I am very much alive as I sit here in the cave. Yes, cave. You see, now I can tell you the one great secret of my life, for now it means so little.

I am Zorro.

The letter fluttered out of her hands and onto the floor as she looked up at Don Alejandro in disbelief.

"He's Zorro!" She choked out the words.

"Yes, Zorro." He nodded and the two people looked at each other searchingly. Victoria hadn't realized how much all of this had aged the man. He looked ten years older than he had three months ago.

"But…but…" she protested at the very idea, even as her thoughts came and went with scenes of Diego and Zorro and the two men melted together in her mind. "No, it is just not…." But she knew, deep down, that it was possible. It was very possible and it explained so much. So very much…

"Victoria?" Don Alejandro had watched the emotions flit across her face as she went from denial to acceptance to wonder and back to disbelief.

"NO! Oh, Madre de Dios! I've lost them both!" And she looked at Don Alejandro with a look of utmost horror etched on her face. _It just couldn't be true! _

She got up and swayed on her feet. Don Alejandro put a hand out to steady her. But it was unneeded as she picked up the folds of the skirt of her nightdress and turned to run from the room, seeking out the dark sanctuary of Diego's room.

Don Alejandro sighed deeply and leaned down to pick up the fallen letter. He slowly smoothed out the paper and reinserted it back in its envelope carefully. He knew she could not have read it all and had probably stopped at the revelation of his son's confession. Knowing also that there would be more declarations in the letter as there had been in his, he rose slowly so he could take the letter to Victoria so she could read the rest later.

He walked slowly down the hallway toward the room, Diego's room. His shoulders stooped a little further as he thought about never being able to talk to his son again, never being able to apologize for so much that weighed so heavily on his soul now. As he neared the doorway, he heard the sobbing and sighed yet again.

She was lying face down across the bed, still in her robe and he went to her to console her.

"Victoria, oh, Victoria," he said as he patted her back in sympathy. "We'll both get through this. It will just take time." He continued in that vein for some minutes and it seemed that she was trying to control herself, trying to control the crying.

When she finally raised her head and looked at him with red-rimmed eyes, all she saw was his sad, resigned and forced smile.

"How …can …you …stand this?" she asked, the words punctuated with sobs.

"I don't …I don't quite know, my dear. There's an unreality about all this to me yet. It's like a bad dream. I just don't know."

"But this is Diego! It's not like you…" she couldn't find the words she needed to ask him all she wanted. What exactly did she want of him? Hysterical crying like she herself was doing?

Her breaths were coming in gasps around the sobs she was trying desperately to control. This was doing no good. Even as the tears began falling again, she wanted them to stop so she could think. There was something important trying to gain hold in her mind. Something important was tugging at her emotions and her thoughts.

"Wait!" She turned and sat full upright on the bed, surprising Don Alejandro with the sudden move. "Wait! We need to think about this. Do you believe the letters?" She grabbed at his sleeve with both hands. "Do you believe it?"

"You mean do I believe his claim to be Zorro? Yes." He drew out the word on a long breath. "I read my letter this evening many times. Yes, I believe it. Diego would never make such a claim and it not be true." His voice became hoarse as he continued, "I can see it now. All the excuses that didn't make sense, all the pretense and … and all the times I berated him, made fun of him…oh, I have a lot to answer for, my dear. That's the hardest thing for me. I can't even apologize to him for it all." And with that, Don Alejandro finally broke down and cried for his son.

Their roles had exchanged, and Victoria found her strength and comforted Don Alejandro. She let the man cry unashamedly, but all the while, her thoughts were churning. _Diego was Zorro! Zorro was Diego!_

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the thoughts coalesced into one.

"Don Alejandro! Don Alejandro! Diego is _Zorro_!" She said the name as if it was magical. "_Zorro_!" Her face had lit up in excitement. "Don't you see what that means?" She had grabbed Don Alejandro by the lapels of his robe and was looking at him imploringly.

"Yes, my dear, I know. But I'm not sure if you should say that so loudly…" He turned toward the open doorway, all at once aware that this was a secret that had been carefully kept. Was it one that could be shared openly now, just because Diego was dead?

"Don Alejandro, Diego could never survive whatever happened out on that ship. That's what we've been thinking. Diego could not have survived. But Zorro! Zorro could have! Diego knows so much, but it's Zorro that _does_ so much!" She licked her lips at the thought. Then she looked Don Alejandro straight in the eyes and asked, "Do you believe _ZORRO _could survive a shipwreck?"

"What?" Her intensity was compelling and he let his own thoughts race along in the direction of hers. "Yes, Zorro could…" For the first time in months, Don Alejandro broke into a smile that spread to his eyes. "Yes! I believe Zorro could survive…" He looked around the room as he thought about the possibilities that Victoria had suggested and his eyes fell on the familiar objects and furnishings of the room. Diego's room. "No…wait… Victoria, let us not get our hopes up again. I've been through all this in the past few months. It doesn't help. It's grasping at straws"

"Don Alejandro! Bite your tongue! Now that you know, you should have faith in Diego. Have faith that he can come back to us. He is not dead. I knew it before and I know it for sure now. This only makes me even surer of it!"

She looked around at the same room and furnishings that had collapsed the hope in Don Alejandro and let it reinforce hers. "Look at this room. Everything in its place. Look at this!" She pointed to the wooden box that contained cufflinks and other pieces of jewelry that Diego hardly ever wore. "It's placed exactly, precisely, in the center. You couldn't measure this and be more precise. Look at these clothes!" She opened the wardrobe. "Everything is a measured distance from the next item. Oh, I knew Diego was one who likes order in his life, but I never knew until I saw this that he likes control." She looked at Don Alejandro pointedly. "Control. That's what Zorro does. He controls situations. He controls the outcomes. He plans. He prepares. And then he always wins!" She said it triumphantly.

"But, Victoria, we aren't talking of a situation that a man can control. It was a storm at sea. Even Zorro cannot control the weather. We can't fault him for going up against nature and losing. No, I want to join you in this belief, but it's just not a practical way of looking at this. It was a bad storm at sea. The ship went down and all but two, maybe three, men went down with the ship. I'm afraid, my dear, that even Zorro could not fight a raging sea like those men spoke of when they were found. No, let's be sensible. We need to get on with our lives."

"No!"

"Yes, Victoria." Don Alejandro crossed slowly to the door. "Zorro or not, a man is only a man and he can only do so much against things like storms at sea. Forget this. Read the rest of your letter. There should be some comfort there for you. At least Diego thought ahead enough to do this much for us. We should be grateful for these small things. Goodnight, my dear. Try to sleep now. Things always look better in the sunlight."

Victoria watched him go and went to close the door behind him. Her mood would not descend to match his. She looked about the room again, and again, she could see all the small details that told her Diego was indeed the masked man she loved. And that man was fully capable of going up against any storm at sea and coming back to her.

"Victoria." She heard the whisper once more, but this time it didn't upset her. It was Diego telling her he was alive. She just had to find him.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: Please remember that the timeline in this story jumps back and forth. Some scenes are present day; some are up to three months before present day.

Chapter 4

The next morning, Victoria returned to the tavern, packed a bag, and loaded up her wagon with every medicine and bandage she could find. There were blankets, dried meats and fruits, sealed up jugs of water and anything else she could imagine that someone would need if they'd been lost at sea for ages.

She also brought money. Her private stash of funds for the running of the tavern and paying the mortgage on it had been divided in half so that she could leave Tina with enough means to run the tavern in her absence and still take as much with her as she possibly could. Not knowing exactly what she would need to take with her, she took as much as she could

Don Alejandro would not join her and had tried his best to persuade her not to go. "It's madness," he'd said.

"Well, madness it is, then! But I am still going. Diego is out there! I am going to find him."

She was determined and Don Alejandro could see it. So he'd given in on one thing. He'd given her a letter of credit to give to the banker of any port city she visited. There at least would be plenty of funds to see her on her way.

He didn't like her going alone. But he didn't see how he could stop her, short of going with her, and he wasn't prepared to leave the hacienda right now. _What if Diego came home and I wasn't here? _That was the thought that haunted him. Maybe a part of him did still have a tiny bit of hope left.

He agonized over the decision all that day. Should he send Felipe with her or one of the caballeros? No, no, that wouldn't be proper. A deueña perhaps? But there wasn't time to engage one and he wasn't even sure if it would be possible to convince anyone who would qualify to go on such a mad trip.

By the time he'd changed his mind, packed his own small bag, and arrived at the tavern on Dulcenea, Victoria was gone.

June 10th later

Diego found the water four feet down after a considerable amount of effort and time. Bubbling up quickly from the bottom of the hole he had dug, the water turned the dirt and sand into a thick, muddy mixture. With a piece of the sailcloth he'd found still attached to the chunk of wooden mast that had saved his life, he was able to filter most of the mud from enough of the liquid for the first long, cool drink of water he'd had in days.

Several hours went by before he could even gather any strength to do more. He couldn't believe how exhausted the few hours of digging had made him, but at least it took no physical energy to begin calculating all that he needed to do to ensure his survival.

Shelter was next, but he knew it would have to wait. Night was already falling and the coolness with it. Diego allowed himself to recline against the sturdy, gracefully curving trunk of a palm tree. He was too exhausted from his digging to find or build anything to shelter him from the night. Looking up at the twinkling stars above, he wasn't sure he wanted to give up that view anyway.

Even with the beautiful scenery that lay all about him, his thoughts were mostly of home and the people there he loved. "Victoria…" he breathed as he drifted off to sleep, listening to the steady rise and fall of the surf against the rocky beach.

September 17th

She heard her name whispered on the wind as the wagon bounced along the trail leading away from Los Angeles. The stars were out tonight with not a cloud to obscure them from view. Several times, she reined in the horses just to listen, but when she stopped and the night grew quiet, she couldn't hear it.

It spurred her on, driving through the night, forgetting how tired she was and how little she'd slept the night before at Don Alejandro's hacienda. She met not a soul on the trail. Her thoughts were all the company she had, thoughts of Diego, lying hurt somewhere, bleeding, needing her.

"I'm coming, Diego. Just hold on. I am coming to find you." She whispered her vow to the winds themselves, willing them to speed her comfort to the man she loved.

This time, she would save Zorro.

June 11th

For a full day, Diego drank his fill of the water, staying near to his private source and only exploring minimally the surrounding area. His body needed the moisture restored deep into his tissues and he knew the rest was needed as well.

There was plenty of wildlife surrounding him, offering him unlimited entertainment while he rested. He saw birds of all kinds: blue herons, mockingbirds, finches and petrels. Even an albatross made an ungainly appearance, its clumsiness eliciting a series of chuckles from his audience of one. A few crabs scurried here and there and two noisy sea lions made it clear that they didn't appreciate Diego's intrusion on their turf.

But none of the wildlife came very close. Curiously, they stayed away, keeping to a perimeter of about 25 feet away from Diego's spot near his precious water hole. From that, he deducted that there must indeed be another water supply close by that he had not found. A pity. It would have saved him a lot of work.

The night was cool and the weather held. He slept on and off, relaxing deeply into the rhythm of the island and its wildlife. It was certainly a peaceful place and good for the soul. But being here was still the problem despite all that.

_How am I going to get back home? Don't give up on me, Victoria!_ The thought repeated in his mind as he sighed and lay back against his favorite palm tree. _Victoria__, I miss you._

September 19th

San Pedro's port was a bustling one. Victoria found the harbormaster's office and waited for over an hour before he would see her.

He was well aware of the missing caballero from Los Angeles. Letters had gone back and forth the past months from agents in Spain as well as those from the pueblo. Yes, he knew that young de la Vega was a very important man. Yes, he was well aware there were connections as far up as the court of the royal family of Spain. But no, there was no further word. There were no other sightings. There was just nothing else he could do. He couldn't help her.

Victoria left the office holding back her tears and not knowing what to do next when she heard a voice from the alleyway hailing her softly.

"Señorita!" A young boy with blond hair stood there, dressed shabbily in fairly gaudy colors.

"Yes?" She relaxed a bit when she saw how young the boy appeared. He was younger than Felipe. There was no threat here.

"Señorita, you look for the caballero from Los Angeles? Yes?"

"Yes, yes I am looking for him. Can you help me?" She walked forward eagerly.

All of a sudden, a hand from the shadowed alley to her left reached out and covered her mouth. Another hand encircled her waist and she was lifted off her feet and drawn into the shadows. All attempts to scream were futile and resulted in little more than a muffled sound that was lost in the busy harbor side.

"Shh…shhh….there now. No one's going to hurt you, Señorita Escalante. You're safe. Just don't scream."

The strong hands turned her around to face her attacker. He could feel her relax as surprise replaced her fear.

"Jim Jarrett!" What are you doing here?"

"The same as you, I imagine, Señorita. Diego de la Vega is missing. I'm going to find him."

"Oh, Jim!" She wanted to cry with relief. At last, someone was willing to help her search for Diego. And surely a former pirate would know just what to do. She hugged the huge man with all her might.

"Now, what did the harbormaster tell you, Señorita?" He looked around him suspiciously, motioning her to keep her voice low.

Victoria relayed every bit of information she had to the man while they both stood there in the darkened alleyway. Jim only nodded at certain times and his jaw was set.

When she was finished at last, she asked, "But why are you here? You're supposed to be in the Caribbean."

"I'm here because I heard of young de la Vega's plight. At first, it saddened me. Then it made me mad that such a thing could happen to him. But when I finally realized what Don Alejandro must be going through, I knew I had to act. I almost lost my boy too once, you know?" He looked down at the boy beside him and smiled. "Don Alejandro was kind to me when I was in need of a measure of kindness. Don Diego was too. And there's also another thing…" His voice trailed away as a man passed behind them. He let the man go out of earshot before he continued, "I've been shipwrecked too. Stranded for five years. And I was a pirate. A gentleman such as Don Diego, well, his chances are not as good as mine were to survive something like that for as long."

Victoria smiled and thought, _"You'd be surprised!" _There was one bit of information she couldn't tell Big Jim. But that only put the odds in Diego's favor.

"So come, we've got work to do," he said as he led her further down the alley.

"But my wagon! It's full of supplies." She pointed to the wagon that was still within their sight.

"Good! I'll have my men come back for it. But for now, we need to get you on board and settled." He looked her up and down. "Got any sea legs under that skirt?" he asked with a grin.

"If I don't now, then I will have before this is over, won't I?"

"That's the spirit!" Jim slapped her lightly on the back and led her away down the alley so they could make for the isolated bit of coast where his ship was moored.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: Please remember that the timeline in this story jumps back and forth. Some scenes are present day; some are up to three months before present day.

Chapter 5

June 12th

Diego looked above his head and felt his stomach rumble from hunger. Those coconuts were calling to him.

"Nothing for it but the trying!" he said aloud, scaring a small bird in a nearby bush into flight.

"Not used to voices, are you?" he shouted after the flying bird. Looking up at the long trunk reaching up into the sky above him, he said under his breath, "But, at least, you've got wings. I could use a pair about now."

There was a clap of thunder from the west and Diego acknowledged it with a chuckle. "I didn't mean right now!"

The sky was getting darker as he stood there and he knew he had to tackle the tree now, before any lightning came into the area. So he stripped off what was left of his shirt, and placed it carefully on the top of a bush nearby. It wouldn't do to let some small creature make off with it while he was climbing. The cloth itself might be needed for something later even its original purpose had been lost.

"Lost, like me," he mumbled as he grabbed the huge tree trunk. The ridged bark of the tree was rough on his hands and he longed briefly for Zorro's gloves. "In fact," he said to himself, "all of Zorro's equipment would come in handy just about now."

Pieces of the bark crumbled off into his hands and loosened his handholds every few feet as he climbed. He made it up as far as ten feet before he fell back to the sandy ground, landing flat on his back. "All right, I give!" he cried to the tree. "You can keep your old coco—"

His eyes turned to the constantly pounding surf as he spoke, and the remains of the mast and sail caught his attention. The rope that had held him fast to the wood was still there, and he'd forgotten all about it.

Within minutes he was up and running for the rope. His body had responded well to the day of rest and water and his resilience was returning.

He selected the longest length of rope and, remembering what he'd read about how it was done by native peoples of islands in the south, he attacked the tree once more. He wound the rope around his own body and then the tree trunk and tied it fast. Then slowly, deliberately, he began the process of lifting the rope inches at a time up the trunk of the tree, leaning his weight back into the rope at his back, and bracing his progress with his legs. Inches became feet as his confidence grew with his experience.

The coming storm still thundered in the distance, telling him to hurry, but he kept his pace steady. It would not do to fall again and he needed to accomplish getting those coconuts to the ground before the storm arrived. There was no telling how long it would last, and his body needed food.

He kept up a low conversation with himself the entire time. "A good rope. Sometimes it's the most important thing in the world." Eyeing the coconuts that were just a few feet from his head, he quickened his pace slightly. "They're not steak, but I'll bet they will taste as good tonight!" He climbed higher.

When he reached the top, he finally pulled one coconut into his hands and wrested it from its home in the deep green fronds. Then, aiming carefully for a very large rock below, he threw it with all his might, hoping it would crack from the impact. It bounced away intact and nestled underneath one of the scrub brushes. He threw another and another with the same results. After littering the beach with enough coconuts to last him a good while, for he didn't want to have to make this climb too often, he descended the tree trunk rapidly. The storm was intensifying and he still had to construct a shelter of sorts.

Achieving the ground once more, he released his tight hold on the rope and massaged his hands. His back ached from the fall he'd taken earlier. One more look up the tree trunk convinced him that it was something he didn't want to do every day. He turned to collect his harvest of coconuts, scrabbling in the bushes to get every last one and stack them in a pile.

Suddenly, a nice plump coconut landed with a thump, just inches away from his foot.

Diego sighed and gave the tree a dirty look.

Then he carefully moved his stash of coconuts away from the palm tree, lest any others should hurl themselves at him during the night.

September 19th

As Big Jim Jarrett led Señorita Escalante up the gangplank of the _Tesoro_all the eyes of the crew locked on her immediately in concern. She smiled at them as she alighted on deck, but their stares grew even more intense.

"Men, this is Señorita Escalante. She will be joining us on our voyage and you will show her the respect a lady deserves. Is that clear?" he challenged, looking around at the glaring men.

A low mumble was all the answer he received. He turned to his first mate and issued orders for the señorita's wagon to be brought to the small, remote quayside, the supplies it carried to be brought on board, and the wagon hidden well in the immediate area so it could be found when they returned. The first mate shot the señorita a harsh look before turning to gather enough men to complete the tasks.

Victoria was beginning to feel a sense of alarm at the hostility she felt from the men and she tugged at Big Jim's sleeve to get his attention. "Jim, are you sure—"

He saw her face and laughed heartily. "Señorita, don't bother your pretty head about them. Pirates…well, not just pirates, but all seamen would not take too kindly to see a woman brought aboard ship. It's bad luck, you see." He laughed at her expression.

"Bad luck?" A shiver went up her spine. Bad luck was the last thing they needed.

"Yes. A woman aboard a ship is a 'Jonah' and the men aren't going to like it. You couldn't expect them to. But it will be all right. I have an idea about that." He looked at her mischievously.

"What idea?" As he turned and ducked down low to go below deck, she followed him closely, not wanting to be too far from his protective presence. "What are you planning?"

He opened the door to his cabin and motioned her inside. "It's not much," he apologized, "but it is the best onboard, the captain's cabin."

He winked at her and, momentarily, her nervousness returned. Just how had she gotten into such a situation, on a ship, in a small cabin with a man known to be a pirate!

But before she could continue thinking along such lines, he turned to her and said, "Now, as to how you can win my men over…that's easy. We've just picked up a load of food supplies and you, Señorita, are one of the best cooks in all of Alta California. If you're willing, I'll just bet my men can overlook their fear of a little bad luck with their stomachs full of some good cooking for a change." He looked at her expectantly.

Victoria laughed out loud. "Pirates, lancers, caballeros! You're all the same, deep down, aren't you? You are all ruled by your stomachs!" 

Big Jim laughed too. "Afraid so, Señorita, 'fraid so."

June 12th

As dusk fell around Diego, he finished up the make-shift shelter. Built of palm fronds, sticks, mud and the large leaves of some plant he didn't recognize, it seemed sturdy enough to last the night at least, and he'd be glad of it as soon as the black clouds just overhead relieved themselves of the heavy burden they carried.

The fire he'd made burned low and provided him some temporary warmth as he returned to his coconuts. He had managed to crack two of them open and even saved most of the milk for drinking. It was a nice change from the brownish water he had been forced to drink. Even filtered through cloth, it just wouldn not let go of all the silt and mud. But it was not brackish tasting, so at least it would sustain his life, and the meat of the coconuts would give him food.

He looked around him in the dim light and saw small pebbles of sand here and there on the beach glittering brightly, reflecting the firelight. Reaching forward, he selected one of the tiny grains of sand and inspected it closely. It was perfectly clear like a very small diamond, or more precisely, like a very small piece of glass.

Diego's mind grew focused. _Glass_. If only he could build a big enough fire, or rather, a hot enough fire, he just might be able to make some glass. With some glass, he could make glassware and with that, he could distill the water. But one glance up at the threatening thunderclouds above him, he knew it was no use. This storm was going to soak everything around him. There would be no available fuel for a time.

"I will have to start working at making some tools tomorrow", he thought as he nibbled his coconut meat and drank the last of the milk. This was not going to be easy.

He sighed deeply, thinking of his home, his family and Victoria. What must they be thinking? Had they even heard about the shipwreck yet? Did they believe him to be dead?

This would be a paradise if it were not for the loneliness. Whenever Victoria came into his thoughts, he could almost imagine her there, at his side. Sometimes he talked to this mental vision of her. Always, he whispered her name just to hear it, to give him the strength to go on and make whatever effort was needed for his survival.

The wind picked up and the rain finally began to fall. Diego scooted back up underneath the shelter he had constructed, hoping it would stand up against the winds.

All his efforts today, climbing, cracking coconuts and gathering his building materials had taken a toll on his body. He was tired. As he retreated even further towards the back of the small tent-like structure, he groaned out loud as another new bruise made itself known to him. His back ached and so did his right arm. In fact, now that he was taking stock of his aches and pains, he didn't know what part of his body didn't hurt.

"I guess climbing palm trees and whacking coconuts use a different set of muscles than fencing and riding," he thought. "I suppose I shall get used to it. Who knows how long before a ship passes this way? I could be here quite a while."

He looked out at the falling rain and was thankful for it even if it did make his night uncomfortable. At least, tomorrow he would have nice fresh rainwater to drink. The upturned coconut shells he had set out carefully would catch enough water for several days, and he would be able to forego the muddy well. "Yes, much better," he thought. "I wonder how often it rains here."

As the rain beat down, softly and steadily, it lulled him to sleep. Drifting off into dreams of riding across desert plains on Tornado with Victoria in his arms, he whispered her name. "Victoria. Victoria, don't give up on me."

September 22nd

The pirates were quite happy with simple fare for their meals. Meat and potatoes, eggs and bread. Victoria cooked for them all and grew quite fond of them. They were definitely an appreciative lot. If any of them uttered the word "Jonah," he was shushed immediately by the others, for no one wanted to lose their new lady cook. The food was simply just too good.

Victoria was actually enjoying the voyage in spite of her worry about Diego. After running a tavern with the problems that she experienced there, it was nice to just be appreciated for cooking such a simple thing as a perfect egg. The men carefully toned down their rough language whenever she came near and they were absolutely protective of her, making sure she was cool enough, warm enough, or that the sun wasn't in her eyes.

She didn't know it, but several of them, the younger ones, were quite falling in love with her. She was the prettiest little señorita that many of them had been around in years.

And they all knew that if her safety were ever threatened in any way by any one of them, then that man would be answering to Big Jim.

Big Jim spent his time pouring over maps. He had treasure maps, coastal maps and hand-drawn maps of his own making and he consulted them daily. With his sextant and other instruments spread before him, he was deep in thought when Victoria came up behind him.

"Big Jim?" She said his name quietly. She had learned it was the best way among these men who were startled so easily by a woman's presence aboard the ship.

"Señorita! Come. Sit!" He smiled up at her with a simple sincerity.

"Have you figured anything out yet?" she asked, hoping for a positive answer.

"Well, these islands here," he pointed to a small scattering of irregularly shaped blobs in the middle of nothing on the map before him, "they could be our starting point. According to the bosun's mate," Big Jim looked down at some papers in his right hand, "the ship went down about here." 

Victoria winced as she saw him point to a place on his map very far from any of the little blobs he said were islands.

"Prevailing winds were easterly until the storm when all hel—" He stopped himself and looked up at her quickly. "Pardon, I didn't —"

"It's all right. Just go on." She overturned an empty nearby bucket, picked up her skirts and sat down near him.

He smiled at her and, not for the first time, felt a little envy of Diego for having a lady so fine who was also so real. "Well, here," he pointed again, "is where we are going. We'll search down this way, using a grid to mark it off as we go." He checked the papers again. "And here is where —"

"Big Jim!" Victoria cried in surprise. "I just realized, you are reading!" She was delighted, for when they had first met a long time ago, the man could not.

"Yes, Mam, I learned. Pepe helped me and now, I can even make out words in three or four different languages as well," he said proudly. "It was Don Diego who gave me the books when we settled in Los Angeles for that short time. We started there and then and I think those first lessons helped us to get to know each other even quicker." His eyes grew a bit moist at the memories just stirred and he cleared his throat abruptly and returned to pointing to the map. "But, getting back to this, here is where we are, or rather, where we'll be in a few more hours, if the weather holds."

He checked the skies and she turned her head to look up too, though she didn't know exactly what he was looking for as he scanned the skies and horizon.

"Yes," he said, "we'll make good time. The _Tesero_ is a good ship. Bought her with the treasure we found, and named her for it too."

"The Treasure of Port-au-Prince?"

He nodded.

"So it did exist. You said it didn't!"

"I also said it did. Never trust the word of a pirate. Haven't you learned that yet?" he teased.

"Well, I hope we can trust the word of those sailors. We can't afford to waste any more time. Diego is out there somewhere. Who knows what shape he's in or if he's hurt or —" She was working her emotions into a frenzy again with all her wonderings.

"Now, now, Missy, we'll find him. Big Jim and his men found the Treasure of Port-au-Prince. I doubt finding one Spanish caballero can be any more difficult than that." He winked at her playfully. But inside, he had his own doubts. He thought, "_It would be better if we were looking for a man like Zorro, for I don't know if a man like Don Diego really ever had a chance_."

"You know, Señorita, I have been wondering…"

"Yes, Big Jim?"

"Well, last time I was in the pueblo, it was Zorro you were all cozy with, according to all the gossip, that is. How's he going to feel about you going off to find Don Diego?"

"He'll understand." She chewed on her lower lip, wondering how much more she should tell him. "Big Jim, my…relationship with Zorro… that is not what it once was."

"Uh huh?" he answered, hoping she would continue.

"Yes, you see, it has really been difficult trying to have any ..." She searched for the right word.

"Relationship?" he offered, as he watched her face intently.

"Yes, relationship. A relationship with a hero like Zorro, well, I should have known it would not work. It just never had …"

"Any future," he finished her sentence.

"Yes, exactly. And recently, I discovered that Diego is …well, he's more…"

"More like the man you want to marry?" he asked, nodding his head up and down.

"Yes, yes, that's it." She had had quite enough of this sort of conversation. She could feel his eyes boring into her, like he was trying to see right through her. "Well, I am going to leave you with your maps and things. I have to start the evening meal."

"That is good. What are we having tonight, Señorita?"

"Stew, I think. The men have been asking for that again. And I made some nice cakes I think they will like as well."

"Sounds good," he said as she turned to retreat back to her small kitchen area in the galley. As she walked away, he thought to himself, "_Also sounds like maybe Don Diego has more of a chance than I thought!_"


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Please remember that the timeline in this story jumps back and forth. Some scenes are present day; some are up to three months before present day.

Chapter 6

June 14th

It wasn't the sun that awoke Diego the morning after the storm. It was the birds.

Dozens of birds descended in a flock and attacked his carefully laid out row of coconuts that had collected their fill of rainwater.

He got up quickly to find he could only move slowly and stiffly. Trying to swat the birds away from his precious stash of water and food, he faltered with every step. His body just wasn't responding properly. Before he could accomplish shooing the birds away, they had done their worst. He looked around and not a single coconut contained a drop of water. Most had huge chunks of the meat eaten away as well.

There were small depressions in the sand here and there that still had pools of freshwater in them and he went quickly to try to retrieve as much water as he could. A quick look at the skies told him it could be days or longer before rain would come again and he couldn't afford to waste a drop. The skies also told him he had slept late, much later than he would have thought.

"I must have been more tired than I thought," he said out loud to the few birds that remained nearby, perched on rocks, just looking at him. "And _you_," he pointed a finger at them accusingly, "are responsible for this mess. You should be ashamed of yourselves."

But the birds just looked at him.

"Hmm," he said as he warily approached the one closest to him, "you, are different, aren't you?" he said quietly to the reddish-billed bird that had caught his eye. "I think I shall have to write a detailed description about you for Padre Benitez. He would love hearing about —" He stopped and sighed. "No paper. No ink. Yet another problem." He turned to look at the vegetation growing behind him and said, "But I think I can remedy that by tonight. At least one small part of civilization will reach this lonely outpost – the written word!"

So he set about trying to find just the right items he required to make the things he needed.

When the evening settled down upon the island that night, Diego had accomplished a great deal. He'd managed to construct some crude tools from an assortment of rocks he'd found. Handles for them he'd made with the help of a bit of the precious rope by unraveling the cords and wrapping them around bits of straight pieces of wood.

Striking some of the obsidian-like rocks he'd found, he had created some nice sharp stones that he could use for several purposes, one of which was a nice shave. "No use looking like Robinson Crusoe, even if I am out here living like him." But when he tried his homemade razor, he was very disappointed and decided to wait for something better.

Combing the beaches for the next few days provided him with some curious objects and some debris that was obviously from the _Perro Salado_. One such find was invaluable. A three-inch length of a flat piece of metal attached to a much larger piece of sailcloth.

"Ah! At last! This will do nicely for a knife, once I hone an edge to it." Diego set about to do just that. He worked for hours getting the small piece of metal turned into a knife. One small piece broke off in his hand from it, and even for that, he gave thanks. The smaller piece would do nicely for making a hook. Fish would be a welcome change from the coconuts he'd existed on for days.

Diego's days started to develop a pattern. He would search for food and whatever else he could find on the beaches in the morning hours. As the sun rose to its zenith in the sky, he would have a meager lunch, with either coconut milk or water. During the afternoon hours, he would rest, keeping out of the hot sun as much as possible.

His body was getting quite a tan. He was wearing only the remnants of his pants. One leg had been torn anyway, so he'd decided to cut both legs off at the knee with his newly crafted knife. It was definitely cooler this way and he could always use the cloth for other things like laying it out to catch any dew that formed.

He was beginning to become concerned once more about his water supply. No more rain had fallen. The small water hole was filling less quickly each day and he knew soon he'd have to dig another. Remembering the efforts that had cost him, he was not looking forward to it.

Strangely, his spirits never faltered. Somehow, he knew it was just a matter of time before he was rescued or figured out a way to get off the island and back to Los Angeles. He never once doubted it. But then, he'd never been one to get discouraged easily.

He did miss Victoria and his family though. His thoughts constantly went back to them and he would speak to them out loud as he worked at his tasks. A night did not go by without "Victoria" being the last word he said to the night sky overhead.

The days melted into weeks and the weeks started to tally up into months. He wasn't exactly sure of the date, for there were days when his thoughts had been elsewhere and he just hadn't paid much attention to the celestial signs he knew so well. But he had a pretty good idea of how long he'd been on the island.

He could certainly tell it had been a while from the beard forming on his chin. At first, he'd used his knife to keep himself looking like a civilized human being. But after a few mornings of that, he'd given up the fight and had just let the beard grow. He wondered at the sight he must present. Shirtless, in the briefest of pants, tanned and bearded, he was sure his own father would have a difficult time recognizing him. Laughing out loud, he thought of how his appearance would scandalize Victoria. Well, at least, he didn't have to worry about that. However he was rescued, by his own hand or that of others, he would have plenty of time to get presentable before she set eyes on him.

September 30th

The _Tesero_ dropped anchor off the coast of the most likely island, according to Big Jim, that Diego might have been able to swim to during the storm. His men searched the island from one tip to the other as Victoria watched from the ship, hoping for their signal that Diego had been found.

As the men arrived back on board, she could read the disappointment in their faces. They, too, wanted to find the young man, if for no other reason than to please the señorita.

In the days that followed, they searched three more islands, and each evening when the men came back onboard, Victoria grew more and more depressed. Big Jim could see the optimism seeping from her and vowed to himself all the more that he would find Diego, if not for Diego's or Don Alejandro's sake, but for this young señorita that he'd grown so fond of on this journey.

The men, too, were taking their cues from the señorita. They discussed it nightly amongst themselves and they agreed they had to try harder, search longer. The man had to be out here somewhere. She had been so sure. So had those Portuguese sailors, remember? They had talked of him as if he was quite capable of surviving being stranded on one of these islands. Yes, and those islands a bit further south, they could be a new place to search. The currents could have been disturbed by the storm. And so their conversations went.

Sometime later, Pepe came up to his father to discuss the men's thoughts. He laid out their beliefs in an orderly fashion and before long, father and son were pouring over the maps with new ideas. They plotted currents and examined the possible islands within a reasonable distance from where the ship went down according to the few survivors.

Victoria left her spot along the railings where she kept a lonely vigil almost every night and walked over to where the two were deep in discussion as to their next step.

"So where will we try tomorrow?" she asked.

"Hola, Señorita. We were just talking about that," Pepe answered brightly. He had not yet been infected with the pessimism of the others. "Look! These islands here could be the ones!"

"Big Jim? What do you think?" she asked hopefully, with just a bit of fear creeping into her tone.

"I won't lie to you, Señorita. Our odds are shrinking every day that goes by nowadays. We've been searching this area almost two weeks now with not a sign of anything to do with the ship. I would have thought if we were in the right place, something would have been found on the beaches by now. But, Pepe's right. Those islands may be a good bet. I hadn't thought of them until now. They seemed too far to the south. But if the currents were driven by the storm and the currents that run along here," he pointed to some light curvy lines that had been added to the map in the areas that were water," then just maybe…" He let his voice trail away as he rubbed his chin.

"Are we close to those islands?"

"Yes, Señorita, well, close according to sea terms anyway. We can be in that area by late tomorrow evening, if the weather holds. Checking the sky, he said, "And it looks as if it should." He stood and put a light arm around her shoulders. "Why don't you turn in and get some sleep. We start afresh tomorrow in a different area, and you don't want to be tired if we start coming upon any signs."

She smiled up at him and encircled her own arms around the big man to hug him. She'd grown quite fond of this pirate in the last few weeks. How she thanked the Holy Mother that he'd come to her aid! What would she have done without him?

The cabin was the only place on the ship where she could be totally alone. She was hardly ever there except to sleep because being alone was really not what she wanted right now. Preparing the men's meals was a blessing for her, not work. It kept her from dwelling on all the possibilities of how this voyage would end, and there was only one that was acceptable to her, finding Diego, and finding him alive.

She closed the door and maneuvered around the small room, getting dressed for bed and maintaining her balance as she did so. Those sea legs Big Jim had asked her about had been slow in coming to her, but she'd found them at last, at least on deck. But here in the small cabin, it seemed the motion was more pronounced. At least it was to her.

She snuffed out the candle and pulled the covers up to her throat, hoping the rocking of the ship would help her sleep tonight.

But sleep didn't come for quite a while. Thoughts of Diego lying dead on a deserted beach, floating dead in the water, hurt and bleeding on a constructed raft – those were the images that flitted through her mind as she tossed and turned. She felt helpless. All she wanted to do was get to him, find him. Yet he was always floating just out of her reach. He was thirsty, hungry, hurt – dying!

She woke up suddenly. The darkness was complete all around her and no sounds met her ears except the sound of the waves hitting the sides of the ship.

It was then that she began crying. The tears came freely and she did nothing to hold them back. There was no one to see, no one to care. There was no comfort for her in any deep recess of her mind, no reason to see why she should even try to stem the flow.

She cried until she had no tears left and she was gasping for breath with each new sob. She knew her eyes were red and her face all puffy and she didn't care. Tomorrow, she would look as if she had had just the type of night she was having. But tomorrow might be the day that her tears would at last have their reason.

She pounded the pillows in frustration and thought, "_Madre de Dios_ _What will I do if we find him dead? How can I go on living!"_

How would she ever be able to tell Don Alejandro! How would he go on without Diego? How would the pueblo go on without Zorro?

"_How can I live without them both!" _

It was the thought that brought fresh tears until at last exhaustion had its way with her. The tears on the pillow and the wet streaks on her cheeks lay as testament of the turmoil inside her as, at last, she drifted off into the deep sleep her body needed.

September 22nd

Don Alejandro entered the office of the Alcalde with hesitation governing each step.

De Soto looked up from his papers in greeting. "Don Alejandro! To what do I owe a visit from you today? Hmm?" He leaned back in the chair, lifting it off the front legs and balanced that way, regarding Don Alejandro with interest.

"Alcalde De Soto, I have an announcement for you and I think you might just want to make this announcement to the pueblo later on." Alejandro still looked down at the floor as if he'd rather be anywhere but where he was at this minute.

"Announcement? Ah! So! You are now willing to admit to what everyone else knows is true. You son is dead?" De Soto tugged at his mustache with one hand to keep himself from smiling.

Don Alejandro shot the Alcalde a hard look. "No, that's not exactly it. I am referring to this." He reached in his jacket pocket and withdrew an envelope and handed it to the Alcalde. He had only brought the first page of Diego's message with him. It contained the information about Zorro. The second page he had not been willing to share with anyone. That remained under lock and key in his bedroom.

"What's this?" De Soto said as the legs of the chair settled back onto the floor. He quickly looked at the writing on the front of the envelope, but said nothing and proceeded to take out the letter.

After scanning through the first two paragraphs, he calmly folded the letter as it had been and handed it abruptly back to Don Alejandro. "Interesting. Another of Don Diego's exploits in the literary world, no doubt," he said disdainfully.

"What! You mean you can't recognize the ring of truth in that!" Don Alejandro was surprised. He had thought De Soto would jump at the chance to reveal the truth about his son.

"Truth!" De Soto laughed. "Truth," he repeated with a sneer. "Don Alejandro, have you retreated so far from reality that you believe this nonsense?"

"Yes, Alcalde, I do," Don Alejandro said with a hint of warning in his voice. "Not only do I believe it, but I want the pueblo to know about this. I want my son to have his glory for what he did for them. I want the world to know that he was Zorro, a hero to the people!"

"First of all, Don Alejandro, you've got all that wrong and you know it. Zorro is a mere outlaw, a paltry villain of the lowest degree. And if you had any sense about this at all, you would know that this letter is a bunch of wild dreaming on Diego's part. Do you not realize that Zorro has been seen twice since Diego went missing? That alone should convince you that your letter is a piece of poorly written fiction." De Soto went back to shuffling his papers, effectively dismissing Don Alejandro.

"Oh, Alcalde, I'm well aware of the two 'appearances of Zorro' and I can also explain them. It was Felipe that people saw. Felipe has been helping Diego with the deception from the beginning." As the words tumbled out of his mouth, he felt a tinge of alarm. Diego might be dead, but his need to let the truth about his son be known had just caused him to implicate Felipe in Zorro's deeds. Don Alejandro looked fearfully to De Soto for his reaction.

"Felipe?" De Soto laughed as he snorted out the name. "Felipe, that slip of a boy that can't even speak! Surely even you can come up with a better story than that! Now, if you don't mind, I have a pueblo to run!" De Soto rose and held out a hand toward the door.

Relief swept over Don Alejandro for a moment, and then his emotions and thoughts swung once more back to his desire for the appropriate recognition for his son. "Just think about it. I'm sure you'll begin to see, as I did upon reflection, that it is very possible and very probable that this letter is exactly the truth. Diego would not lie to me in a letter such as this. You have to believe that much at least," Don Alejandro said indignantly.

When De Soto continued to ignore him and look over the papers spread before him, Don Alejandro struck the desk with the flat of his hand, sending papers and quills flying. "De Soto! I want my son to be recognized for all the good that he did for this pueblo! If you have any sense of self preservation, you will see to it!"

"Don Alejandro." De Soto stood, straightened his jacket, and came around the desk to stand nose to nose with the caballero. "I am going to overlook your threat this once in consideration of the recent death of your son, but if you persist in this, I'll have you thrown in jail. And," he chuckled, "if Don Diego _was_ Zorro, and I can't even believe I let the words pass my lips, then there will be no Zorro to save you this time! Is that clear?" His words were said with great controlled calmness.

Don Alejandro sighed. "Then I will go to the people, the people who loved him. But I will see justice for his memory just as he saw to it that there was justice for the people of Los Angeles. He deserves that much!" With that, Don Alejandro turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

Just outside the door, his resolve left him. "Oh, Diego, my son, how will this pueblo ever survive? How will I?" He rubbed his left arm as he leaned against the wooden door. A look of surprise stole over his face and without a word, Don Alejandro de la Vega collapsed to the ground.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: Please remember that the timeline in this story jumps back and forth..

Chapter 7

September 19th

Diego shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked over the terrain. The water hole that had kept him alive had dried up and he was in need of another source. There had been only the one rainfall since he had come to the island.

He had followed a large bird as it scrambled through the sand when it disappeared into some low scrub brush. Figuring it was heading for the source of water the other animals and birds had been using, he had decided to follow it. His energy had been flagging lately, and he knew just how much that digging a new well would take. Surely, following the animals to their own water supply would be less taxing.

His healthy tan was on its way to being sunburn, his mouth was like cotton, and his senses were beginning to dull. "Dehydration," he thought, for he was far too tired to even try to talk aloud now. Seeing the heat waves blur the air in front of him, he wished once again for a nice rain shower. But one look toward the blue-white skies told him the wait could be days.

Just one long, cool drink of water and he would be all right again. His head would clear and he would be able to go back to his plans. Right now, the only thing occupying his thoughts was the thought of that water. He was ignoring the feel in the pit of his stomach, the ache in every muscle of his body. His very bones made him feel like he was much older than his years. It was only the lack of water. The need of it could do all sorts of things to the body. He knew that.

But in the back recesses of his mind, he knew something more was going on with his body. He'd been without water for the better part of a day, not nearly long enough for him to be feeling like this. Even as the thought occurred to him, he pushed it aside and focused on the problem at hand. Water.

He watched in silence as the bird clawed at the sand. It was in no hurry to show him his way. Small insects were catching its attention and it took all of Diego's patience to remain quiet where he waited.

At long last, the bird began moving again, waddling forward at a very slow rate.

An hour later, it was clear to Diego where it was heading.

A long, high rise of land grew into an overhanging outcropping just above his head. The vines and vegetation that grew along the ridge told of water somewhere nearby.

For several hours Diego searched the area unsuccessfully. No streams, no ponds, and not even small puddles did he find. His frustration grew with each passing minute. The ache in his head grew more pronounced and his tongue felt as if it was swelling within his mouth.

Then suddenly, movement caught his eye and he scurried after it, scrabbling up the incline of the ridge. A small rodent of some kind had wriggled between some scraggly bushes where he seemingly disappeared behind the rocks. This time, Diego had watched as the animal vanished and he zeroed in on the exact spot.

At first, it appeared as if the ridge itself had swallowed the rodent. Then Diego saw why. He lifted up a veil of vines and thick growing brush to reveal an opening into the ridge itself. Pushing the living covering back, he climbed inside and found himself in a rocky cave. It was big enough that he could stand upright and he did.

Light came from the back recesses of the cave, indicating an opening from above. Even filtered through hanging vines that grew downward into the cavern from the overhead entrance, the light was enough to make out the glistening, wet stone walls that sparkled with crystal formations.

He heard the sound of dripping water immediately from the back reaches of the cave. Relief washed over him and he let out a heavy breath. The exertion he'd just made in climbing into the cave brought on a dizzy spell and he steadied himself against the wall of the cave. He thought, "_If I can only make it to the water…" _

He took a step forward and he could see the mirror-like surface of the cold pool of clear water at the back of the cave. Water dripped from the cave ceiling and down the walls, filling a natural concave rock formation with the life-giving stuff.

Small rocks littered the cave floor and he turned to the left when he heard the small furry animal running back toward the cave entrance, scared by his sudden appearance there. As he turned his head back toward the pool, his head swum, his senses reeled and his body pitched forward to lie motionless on the cave floor only a few feet from the water he had so desperately sought.

September 22nd

It was Mendoza who found Don Alejandro slumped on the ground. Dr. Hernandez was called and his diagnosis was that it was the elder caballero's heart that caused the man to collapse. He was taken to one of the mission rooms for a night so the doctor could be close at hand should he be needed. By the next day, Don Alejandro was ready to return to his own bed in his own house. The fact that he was getting grumpier was a good sign that he was improving.

But there were tongues that wagged about the subject of his visit to the Alcalde. De Soto had made no bones about it. Don Alejandro was having hallucinations if he thought his son, Diego, had been Zorro!

Diego de la Vega! Zorro? Could it be? The town buzzed with speculation. Some believed it immediately. They declared they knew it all along. Some dismissed the idea as the ravings of a distraught father. Don Diego was a good man, to be sure, but a hero? Zorro? It hardly seemed possible. Besides, hadn't Zorro been seen since Don Diego was lost at sea? The talk went on and on, and there was not a soul that could restrain from the speculation.

Don Alejandro remained in his bed. There was really no reason now to even try to get up and return to his life. What life was there left for him? His only son was dead. Even Victoria, who had been like a daughter to him all these years, was gone from him, perhaps never to return as well. His dear wife had already gone to be with God, so many years ago. Perhaps it would be his time soon too.

His dreams brought them all to his mind as he slept, and with them, the guilt he felt at failing them all. Even Victoria. _I should have gone with her! I should have gone…_

September 25th

Big Jim and his men had inspected four of the five-island chain for three days. When it came time to lower the small boats into the water to row out to the fifth, Victoria was already standing there.

"I'm going too this time, Big Jim," she announced

"Señorita, I'm not sure you should—"

"I am sure you don't, but I'm going anyway. This could be it, you said so yourself." She looked at him straight in the eye. "The debris, you did see it, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. But it might not even be from the _Perro__ Salado_. It could be from some other ship. And there wasn't that much. I'm just saying I don't want you to be disappoint—"

"Disappointment I can live with. Diego I cannot live without. No, don't say it. No matter what we may find, I'm going." She looked out at the beach which was just far enough away that not a thing could be discerned from this distance. It looked like nothing but a white sandy beach with palm trees some distance from shore. Without the long looking glass, one couldn't even see the debris that had brought her so much hope.

"Very well," he said, giving in to her. He had already learned it would be useless to try to stop her. "But if you go, you are under my orders, understand?" He shook a finger at her face. "I won't brook any insubordination from my men and I won't from you either."

"Understood, Captain!" She saluted him comically and the action drew laughter from his men. The glare they received from Big Jim quieted them down fairly quickly. "I'm sorry, Big Jim, I promise to be good. Just don't leave me on board," she pleaded with him.

"Just remember my orders. Don't go running off from the group. We don't know what's out there," he warned.

All the way to the island, she couldn't keep still. Here and there along the beach, things came into view as they approached: bits of cloth, pieces of wood, a bottle and a wooden flask. Her hope soared with each new bit of flotsam. If anything from the ship had made it this far, so could Diego!

They beached the small boat and waded the last few steps through the shallow surf. Victoria ran ahead, heedless of Big Jim's cries to hang back with the men. He sighed heavily. He had known this would happen. Motioning for half the men to break off to the left, and half to the right, he joined the girl at the palm trees straight ahead.

"Victoria, this way," he directed her and led her away to the right following just behind the men. At least this way, they'd find anything first and could warn him. He could hold her back if they gave him a signal that they had found the worst.

"There's nothing here," she wailed plaintively.

"He may not have come ashore at this spot. There's another inlet down that way."

They walked for a good half hour before one of the men shouted. Big Jim and Victoria exchanged quick glances before taking off at a run.

"Big Jim! Look here. It's a camp. It's recent too." The man gestured here and there to the signs that lay about them.

Victoria's hopes lifted to the skies. She could even see the indications that somebody had been here. The remains of a campfire were clearly there, though it was evident it had not been used that day; the ashes were cold. There were coconuts strewn about, many broken open and the meat removed. A small handmade shelter stood back amidst the low shrubs and some crudely made tools lay on the sand as well.

"Captain!" The cry came from behind her and startled her as she looked intently at the tools. She turned to see Big Jim and the man called Franco examining something between them. She walked over to the men slowly, hesitating for the first time, wondering fearfully what they held.

"It's like paper!" Franco said with a good amount of wonder in his voice. "What does it say?" he asked his captain, for he had never learned to read yet.

"Señorita? Is this Diego's writing?" He handed her the fragile leaves of white porous stuff, and she took it in her hands as if it were something very precious.

"Oh, Madre de Dios! It is. It is!" She looked up at Big Jim with eyes wet from unshed tears. The crudely made papers before her held Diego's writing, his precious, precious writing. He was alive! She let the thought wash over her like a rain shower. Diego is alive. Her mind repeated it over and over as the handmade paper wavered in her vision. She couldn't even see it through the salty tears. She handed it back to Jim to read it to her, thankful for the small, yet huge, fortune that he could now read the words set down there.

"This page here, it says, 'made the knife' and 'no rain since…' I can't make out the rest. It's smudged. The surface is so uneven." He thumbed through the other sheets. There were four in all, small and covered in a difficult writing. Clearly, this had only been a partial success at paper making for Diego. "This page says, 'the well is drying up, must find…" He broke off as he heard the sob from Victoria.

All this meant was that Diego had survived the shipwreck. He had been here. It didn't mean he was still alive. The realization hit her like a terrible wave. She looked around at the deserted camp and the men who were searching all around it. "He's not here, Big Jim! Where is he? Where is he now?" she cried, almost ready to fall down and give up on the spot. So close and still he was not here. So very, very close!

Big Jim enfolded the señorita in his huge embrace and held her as she cried. He watched over her head as his men continued to scour the area and report their findings one by one.

"A well, over there. It's dried up and looks like it dried up days ago."

"Found this over there," one pirate said as he handed his captain a piece of cloth.

Every clue that could be found was taken to Big Jim and passed under his nose as he stood there, holding the señorita. Finally, she broke away from him.

"Go! Go search. You're the one that can find him for me. Please!"

"Stay here, then. You hear?" He looked at her sternly, and she nodded silently.

He walked immediately over to the place where the men had seen the well. He got down on his knees and inspected it intently.

There were pieces of coconut shells with small squares of cloth atop each one lined up near the large hole. The first cloth was very soiled. The last in line was fairly clean. All the ones in between were various stages in between.

"What does it mean, Captain?"

"He was filtering the water in stages to make it cleaner. A good idea," Big Jim said, but he only wished he felt better about that dried up mud hole.

Then he looked all around in the bushes and along the ground for some distance around the area. After walking down the beach for another hundred yards, he came back to the group and cautiously approached Victoria.

"Señorita, he was here for a while. He dug that well and I can tell you that the water that came from there was tainted. I don't know what with…just that the wildlife around here was keeping their distance, and that's odd unless there was something wrong with the water. Diego should have guessed that. He was – is certainly smart enough…"

Her head had come up at his use of past tense to describe Diego and she was looking at him with defiance.

"But Diego couldn't have even reached this island until days after the shipwreck, not even if he were conscious and swimming straight for it. My guess is he floated in on that bit of mast there." Big Jim pointed down the beach to a large piece of mast sticking half in the water and half out of it. Who knows if he lay there for hours or days! But whatever had happened, when he had set up this camp, he had needed fresh water, and he had needed it for days. By the time he dug that well, he may not have been thinking as clearly as usual for him."

Big Jim shaded his eyes with one hand and looked up at the palms that stood gracefully nearby. "He was still in fairly good physical shape, for he seems to have shinnied up those palm trees for the food. He also managed to catch some fish, made tools, and even paper and ink. Only Don Diego would think that as important as all the rest!" He laughed at last and even got a small, choked peal of laughter out of the señorita.

Once he started drinking from that," he pointed to the abandoned hole, "his reasoning was not perfect."

He shook his head. "Victoria." He called her by her name, indicating how seriously he was about to speak. "There are some tracks leading into the brush up that way. I think he went off to search for the place the animals have been using for water." He finished with the tale and took her hand.

There's no telling what we're going to find up that trail. We're close. I'm sure of it. I'd rather you stayed here, and I think that would be Diego's wish as well."

She looked up at him with her chin in the air. "Well, I don't care at all what you or Diego would rather I do right now! I'm going with you. I can take whatever we find, just as long as we find him." She sniffed loudly and hoped she sounded determined. Inside, she was wavering with fear. Big Jim was right. She should stay there. She knew that. But she would not, and she knew that too.

"All right, then, let's be going. Men! Gather up all this. Anything that Diego might want to keep," he said it more for the señorita's sake than for anything else. He didn't imagine Diego would care one way or another. But those items might just be the only things they'd be taking with them today.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

They followed the faint signs in the sand and dirt for a few hundred yards before they led the group up away from the beach and into the brush and rocky ledges.

"At least, he's not trying to cover his tracks. I have a feeling, if he were, we'd never see much," Big Jim mused. "There! It continues over there!" He pointed to some disturbed patches of earth and the men beat back the growing underbrush so that the señorita would not have a problem traversing it in her skirt.

It was hot.

The heavy, humid air clung to them as they moved slowly, afraid to miss any signs. Victoria, thankfully used to the heat of the pueblo, was holding up well in the men's eyes. Despite her looks, she was no fragile flower. All of them were impressed with "their" young señorita all the more.

As the group trudged along slowly, they wiped their brows and, at intervals, stopped for a refreshing drink of water from their canteens. As each raised the container of cool water to his lips, each entertained the thought that the one they followed had not had this advantage. As the afternoon wore on, their optimism at finding the man alive wore down too.

Victoria, too, had not missed the looks exchanged by the men. She knew very well what they were thinking and thought defiantly that she also knew one other thing. These men did not track a common man, but Zorro himself. If anyone could survive this, he was the one man who could.

Diego dreamed.

The images flew like butterflies around his mind, flitting in and out, just out of his reach so no single one could be held captive before him for very long.

He saw Victoria setting a full glass of lemonade down just near his hand, his father watering the flowers just outside the door, Felipe seeing to Tornado, filling his food trough and rubbing him down. And there, close by, was the water flowing from the fountain in the pueblo so freely, making such lovely tinkling sounds against the rough surface of the stonework.

At first, he reached for the images, his hand lifting weakly for the spot right in front of him. But at his touch, the pictures dissolved away into wispy air, with only a distant laughter lingering behind them.

There she was again, looking deeply into his eyes, her lips parted, her hand reaching for his cheek. Then laughter intervened once more as her face wavered and floated away from him. Victoria stood in the garden with flowers all around her, sweet-smelling roses and soft raindrops falling at her feet. The image held for a few minutes and he drank it in, licking his lips hungrily before a larger, clearer picture of De Soto came between them. He was tying her hands behind her back and leveling a pistol at his father who stood nearby, looking on helplessly.

His father! He stood there looking so pale, so old, watching it all and then he lifted his hands to reveal that he held in one of them a long white rectangle, a letter.

The letters! No! He had forgotten about the letters. _They must not read them! _He had to get them back.

"I am not dead!" he cried out, but the words would not come out of his mouth. He struggled to be heard and felt hands holding him back. "No! Don't let him read that! He can't! She can't!

Then it was Victoria who held the letter. "No!" he cried once more. "Don't! I wanted to… I wanted to tell you…I wanted so much…" and his voice died away as his spirit fought to leave him. He could not go on any longer.

It was Pepe that saw the way into the cave. Small for his size, he had wriggled up underneath one of the bushes when he'd seen a semi-circle impression in the sand on the other side of them. Seeing the imprint, he had thought at once that a heel could have made it if someone had turned to look at something. Yes, that could have made such a mark.

When he came out on the other side of the line of bushes, he saw it, the small indention behind a layer of thick vines. It was just enough room —

Then he saw the footprint in the soft sand near a rock and yelled back to his father, "Papa! Papa! Come here! I think there's a place…" His voice became muffled as he slipped through the opening.

"Pepe!" Big Jim looked up to see the blond hair of his son disappear underneath an overgrown outcropping. "Jack, you and Franco climb up there and see what—"

Big Jim had turned as he barked out his orders, intending to reach for the señorita's arm to hold her back until they could check out what Pepe had found, but as he turned, she stepped forward just far enough to be out of his reach.

Then she was gone, running, heedless of the brush, the rocks, and the vines. She made the hidden entrance just seconds after Pepe had moved the vines aside and out of the way. The movement of them had still not settled before her own hand was pushing them away roughly, the only impediment between her and the man she loved.

For there he lay.

"Diego! She screamed the name in an out-rush of breath as she ran forward in the dim light to kneel at his side. Pepe stood back, astonished by the speed at which the señorita had covered the distance and appeared as if out of nowhere.

"Diego, Diego…" She repeated the name over and over, so grateful at last to be able to be saying it to the bearer of the name.

Quickly kneeling, then sitting, at his side, she struggled to turn him onto his back. Grasping his shoulders firmly, she tugged him toward her, rolling his shoulders up and over her knees so that she held him in her lap.

"Diego." She lifted his head gently and cradled it as she stroked his cheeks, his forehead, and his hair. With her other hand, she felt his chest, his arms, his throat and made sure there were no wounds.

She had come to expect his gaunt appearance for days. She thought about it as she had waited for sleep, stood by the railings of the ship, and even while she had cooked for the other men. So his emaciated and heavily bearded look did not shock her, for she had gone over it all in her mind before this moment.

Knowing what to expect had also instilled her with the knowledge she needed now. Water was more important than her love in this moment. A man dying of thirst needed water, but he needed it slowly.

She used both hands to reach around him to take the lid from the canteen she had carried. Pepe watched, expecting her to lift the canteen to the dying man's lips, but instead, he saw her lift it to her own.

After taking a long draught, Victoria held the life-giving water in her mouth. She lowered her head and let her lips touch the dry, parched lips of the man, softly parting his with her own. Then she allowed the cool liquid to trickle into his mouth. When she felt his throat contract slightly as he swallowed the first few drops, she said a prayer of thanks that he was awake enough that he could.

Pepe watched, transfixed, as she continued to slowly, patiently, urge a few more mouthfuls of water into the man. Big Jim and two of the other pirates squeezed into the small cave, shedding more light onto the scene with two torches, newly lit.

"Victoria?" Big Jim said cautiously. When she lifted her head, he could see the smile of relief etched there and he knew the same emotion stole across his own face.

He turned to issue orders to his men to construct a litter with the rope they'd brought with them and the available materials. They propped the torches amid the rocks and left to comply.

Then he led Pepe toward the back of the cave to inspect the pool. Satisfied that all manner of animals had been partaking of the water there, he allowed Pepe to fill his canteen from it as he soaked a bandana in the cool water himself. He brought both items over to hand to the señorita.

"That's good, Victoria," he commended her. "Slowly, that's best." She took the wet cloth from him and began wiping Diego's brow with it.

Victoria was lost in trying to gently cleanse away the dirt and grime from Diego's face and chest and savoring each and every touch. She fed him water at intervals, always careful not to give him too much at any one time.

She took in every detail of him as he lay there.Yes, she had expected him to look much as he did, only she would have preferred to find him awake and aware of her presence. Even though she heard her name in the mostly unintelligible mutterings coming from him, she knew he did not know she was there.

As she wiped his face with the cool damp cloth, she noted the unkempt beard he now had and inwardly smiled at how Diego would be horrified to present such an appearance. He had shed his shirt at some point, probably because of the heat, she guessed. His pants now reached only to above his knees, another concession to the heat, she supposed, and then had the thought it was probably for practicality too. She couldn't even begin to conceive of the life he'd led these past few months. It would make for some nice, long talks in front of a cozy fire for the months to come, she hoped.

She took one of his hands and applied the cloth to it too. His hands were rough and had many cuts here and there. His nails were dirty, and again, she allowed herself to smile as she held back her tears by reaching inside herself and dipping into her deep reserves of strength. Almost all the time she held him, she let one hand rest on his chest, feeling the comforting rise and fall that told her he still breathed.

At the feel of the coolness, Diego stirred slightly, but didn't open his eyes. His lips moved as he tried to choke out something none of them could understand from his dry, rough throat.

"Shh, shh," she tried to quiet him as she wiped the sweat and grime from his face.

Big Jim signaled to Pepe to go wait outside and he started to follow the boy, but then decided that he should stay, lest Diego show signs of fading. The man was alive, but how long he would remain that way, it was hard to say. He'd seen men rally out of conditions such as this after receiving a doctor's care and then die anyway. It was a long way to the doctor in San Pedro

The pirate sat down quietly on a low ledge near the cave entrance and watched the señorita care for the caballero, immensely relieved he was witnessing this type of scene and not a more somber moment.

He never said a word as he watched her intently, carefully. When she began to speak softly to Diego in his delirium, the pirate paid very close attention. His curiosity had been peaked from the beginning when the señorita had been willing to do all that she had done. Things she had said to him during the voyage had raised his suspicions even further. But now, he was sure.

From all he had ever heard or discovered about this lady, one thing had overshadowed everything; she was deeply, passionately in love with the man known as Zorro. And from the depths of his being, Big Jim did not believe it was possible to transfer a love like that to another very easily. If ever he needed any proof, he saw it before him now. Diego de la Vega was Zorro. Big Jim was certain of it.

It took a good bit of time before the men had the litter ready. All the while, Diego was never lucid as he lay there tormented by fevered dreams. Victoria was there. He could feel her, hear her voice. But the gulf was too wide and he could not cross it. There was mist, cool mist now, settling upon his face. That was pleasant and as it cooled him, he became more placid.

The agitation came when the whiteness grew and engulfed him. Then, little by little, the white shrank and was replaced by the dark, black coolness that settled from above him. He was so tired of the white color that lay all about him, so tired of the way it weighed him down, pushed him with harsh hands on his chest.

The white grew smaller and smaller until it formed into a small rectangular cloud that could be held in the hand, Victoria's hand. She was there and she held the envelope before her. "No…don't… you shouldn't …not yet."

"NO!" he cried once more before the black claimed him totally once more.

Victoria tried to soothe him while he mumbled words that made no sense. She finally remembered that Big Jim was there and looked over to him. "He'll revive when he drinks enough water, won't he?" It was a question but he knew the answer she wanted to hear.

"Hopefully. Victoria, this might not be caused by not having enough water, but by drinking bad water. That well he dug…" Big Jim shook his head sadly.

The men entered the cave, saying they were ready.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

The trip back to the ship was agonizing for Victoria. She felt every bump the litter went over of that rough terrain, every misstep the men carrying it made, as if she were the one being carried. She had no idea how bad any of Diego's injuries were. The many dark bruises were apparent even through his deep tan. Who knows if he had broken bones or…She stopped herself from imagining anything worse. And through it all, awkward though it was at times, she held onto his hand as if that real connection with him could never be severed as long as she held on fast. There was no way she was going to let go of him now.

"Easy, men, "Big Jim said as he guided the pirates maneuvering the stretcher down the steep slope. Diego was once more unconscious and it was just as well.

The short boat ride across the water was rough as well. The winds were picking up and Big Jim said it was ironic but that it would probably rain on the island tonight. He was going to do his best, however, to outrun the coming storm.

Victoria nodded her agreement as they carried Diego into the captain's cabin she had been using. Big Jim himself had been doubling up in the first mate's tiny cabin, but offering that up to the señorita would do no good. He knew she wouldn't be leaving Diego's side anyway, no matter how improper it all seemed. Figuring she must have known she had already thrown her reputation away with coming aboard the ship, his estimation of her only increased. Here, finally, was a lady with more sense than any sense of propriety.

Many tears were shed in that cabin all during the voyage. Diego roused only once into a conscious state when he spoke to her with any clarity. It was only for a few moments and he had asked her about his father and told her he loved her. Then a look of surprise came across his face and he drifted once more into a disturbed light sleep. She wasn't even sure if he'd really been awake, but she was grateful anyway for those few minutes of apparent lucidity.

As he lay there with closed eyes, she bent forward to place tender kisses on both of his eyelids. At least, she had him all to herself for once. She was grateful for the intimacy of the situation.

But that only led to her imagination running wild. Big Jim had voiced his concerns about the water that Diego had been drinking. He was no scientist, he'd said, but there were many things that could cause water sources to be bad. Some water, a person could tell was bad by the smell or the taste, but some had things in it that couldn't be seen at all. Sometimes the water could even hold deadly gases from below the ground. The bad thing was that when a person was already in dire need of water, he didn't always notice all the signs that would tell him not to drink.

But at least that water had let Diego survive until now. And now, he was with her. Once they got him to a doctor, he would survive. He must. She wouldn't let him leave her now. She hadn't had the chance to tell him that she loved him.

He stirred again and she reached for her basket of medicines. Enough time had gone by that she could give him another dose of the medicine that Dr. Hernandez had given her. She wasn't even sure what it was. The doctor had told her Zorro had once given it to him. He had said it was good for patients with fevers.

She lifted his head carefully and spoke to him aloud. "Diego, your medicine, your own medicine…it will help. You've got to swallow for me now. Please, Querido, let me help you." She brushed her hand across his forehead, into his hair, as she edged the spoonful into his mouth and gave it to him, drops at a time. Just as when she gave him water, she watched his throat as the muscles contracted and he swallowed the liquid.

At the sound of her voice, he seemed to calm. So she kept whispering to him for much of that night, never knowing if he heard or not. It didn't really matter, for the words were comforting to her as well. There was so much she needed to tell him, so much she needed him to know.

During the second night, she decided that the beard had to go. Big Jim provided her with a straight razor. She had never once shaved a man before but "How hard can it be?" she mused.

She decided the beard was so long that scissors would be a good choice to take the bulk of it away first. Once she'd done that, she appraised the look of his face with the short, scraggly beard that was left. "No, just the mustache, I think." She couldn't suppress a small giggle.

Then with the warm water from the stand and the big cake of brownish soap, she began to wet the rest of his beard. Slowly gliding the blade along his cheeks and chin and being so careful not to nick him, she saw the familiar face she had longed to see all this time come back into view. She wiped the soap away slowly and felt the smooth skin, caressing his cheeks, and felt a small thrill run up her spine when he leaned his face into her hand. She went on to tame and trim the bushy mustache above his lip into a nice lean, thin one.

Now that was the face she knew so well. Then, just to check, she lowered the piece of cloth and held it over his nose, eyes and forehead. "Yes, oh yes, why did I never see the truth?"

Then she put the cloth away and lay down on top of the covers beside him. The feel of his clean-shaven cheeks was like a magnet to her hand and she drifted off into a light doze feeling the comfort of his presence beside her. He wasn't fully back to her yet. But it was just a matter of time. She knew that now.

The next morning, Big Jim knocked on the door to check on his passengers. He could see the señorita had barely slept at all. He suspected she had not eaten since the day before either.

"Señorita Escalante, I have breakfast for you on deck. Pepe will stay with Don Diego until you have eaten." As she opened her mouth in protest, he held up a hand. "No, no arguments. I'm Captain. I stand for no mutiny aboard my own ship, even from my prettiest mates. Now, come." He held out a hand for her to join him as Pepe slid sideways into the room. He brought with him fresh cool water and strips of cloth for cooling Diego's fevered brow. At the sight of these, the señorita relented and took the pirate's hand.

Once out in the sea air, Victoria realized just how close the air in the cabin had been. She made a mental note to open the porthole when she got back. Diego needed fresh air as well.

"Here, eggs, bacon… not quite as good as that cooked by your own hand, perhaps, but it will be filling."

"Thank you, Big Jim, I appreciate this. I don't want to leave him for too long though. How soon will we arrive in San Pedro?" she asked before she bit into a slice of bacon.

"I think five days, maybe four. We'll try to make it before nightfall on Friday. If the weather—"

"—If the weather holds," she finished for him. "I'm beginning to think that's the one sentence pirates say more than any other!" She smiled up at him.

"We do depend on the weather a great deal. Yes. How is Don Diego?"

"Still not fully aware of anything. I'm worried. Will the doctor be able to help him? Have you ever seen someone who recovered from—"

"I've seen many recover from far worse. But each man is different. Let us hope that Diego has a strong will and leave the rest to the Good Lord, shall we? It will do you no good to worry too much."

"I can't quite help that. I want him back …all the way back. There's so much I … that he has to live for. He's got to get over this." She finished lamely as she twirled the fork in her food.

"I'm sure he will, Señorita. I'm also sure he will be grateful for your efforts. I think he will be surprised by them as well. It is not often a lady goes to such lengths for a man. He will feel as special as…as Zorro." Big Jim watched her carefully as he said the name.

"Oh, Diego has no need to compete with Zorro." She filled her mouth with food as if it were the most unimportant subject in the world. "I told you, Zorro and I …well…we have decided to go our separate ways, you might say. You see, I just never realized that it was Diego who mattered so much to me. When he went missing, I …I think I finally saw what was in front of me all these years. I only hope he will see that too when he wakes up and gets better."

She stood and wiped her mouth on the napkin that had surprisingly been supplied with her meal. "I need to be getting back to him now. Tell your cook, Joaquin, isn't it, that it was a very good breakfast. He is a good cook"

Big Jim laughed. "Not as good as you, and he knows it, Señorita! But I will tell him. It will make his head swell up as big as the mainsail!"

Victoria returned to the cabin as Big Jim watched her go. _"Joaquin may not be as good a cook as you, Señorita, but he's a much better liar,"_ he thought to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The ship made good time and they were mooring in San Pedro by noon that Friday. Big Jim coerced the doctor to come aboard the _Tesero_to treat Diego so he would only have to be moved once from the ship to the wagon. In fact, Big Jim had one of the men go into town and trade the wagon for a better one, one that would provide the smoothest ride possible for their patient.

He sent another of the men on a more secret mission. Franco was commissioned by him to have a certain suit of clothes made for Big Jim and to buy a horse and tack as well. He was very specific with the instructions and Franco was sworn to secrecy. He could not tell any of the other men of all this when he returned. And he would have to bring his purchases to Los Angeles a few days later. It was all very mysterious. But Big Jim paid well for his wishes to be met and crossing him was just not something any of his men would even consider. The consequences could be more than painful and every man aboard knew it well.

The doctor pronounced Diego ready to travel the next day, although he really didn't know if it was a good idea or not. He wasn't at all sure what was wrong with the man. But the presence of the woman did seem to help keep him calm, and he didn't think, now that they were able to get a bit of water and food into the man, that he would die just because he was moved.

Victoria was impatient to get started back to Los Angeles. Once she had Diego back at the hacienda, in his own bed in his own room, she was sure he would recover more quickly. The thought that Don Alejandro would also be there to help was a comforting thought too.

The small entourage began the trip to Los Angeles. Loaded with plenty of blankets for cushioning, new medicines from the doctor and Victoria entrenched at the patient's side, the brand new wagon made slow progress across the desert plain. Victoria lay beside Diego, brushing her fingers through his hair in a comforting, yet intimate, gesture. His incoherent mutterings seemed to calm when shetouched him and Big Jim smiled at the tender care she offered. Diego was a lucky man to have such a devoted lady.

They took the road around Los Angeles so they'd arrive at the de la Vega hacienda as quickly as possible. Big Jim sent a man to fetch the doctor so he'd be there when the wagon arrived. And, sure enough, there Dr. Hernandez stood as the horses were reined in before the gate.

"Victoria! I got your message. How is he?"

"I don't know. He is not really coherent." She looked about for Don Alejandro.

"Let's get him inside. I want to do a full examination. Those doctors in San Pedro are better more than butchers. Something like this…they have no idea how to treat." As Big Jim and the men carried Diego inside, the doctor went ahead to show them the way.

Victoria followed, calling out for Don Alejandro. As she, too, followed the men down the long hallway, Maria, the de la Vega cook came up behind her.

"Señorita Escalante! Shh…Don Alejandro, he is ill."

"Ill?" Victoria repeated.

"Si, Señorita. His heart. It was his heart." Maria had stopped to look down the hallway where the men had just disappeared into Diego's room. "Is it really true? Is it really Don Diego?" The woman was near tears.

"Yes, yes… oh, Madre de Dios… Don Alejandro! Is he in his room?"

"Yes, the doctor has come almost every day. Just a little while ago, he gave him a draught. Wants him to be kept quiet. But if Diego is truly here, alive! He would want to know. It would be better for him than sleep, than any medicine!"

"Yes, yes….I will go to him." She ran down the hallway and stopped outside Diego's bedroom door to observe the men as they helped move Diego to the bed from the litter.

Maria, too, paused at the door, wanting to see with her own eyes the young man she had helped raise from a young boy and loved so dearly. She was openly crying at the thought of him back home, safe at last, after so long a time.

They heard Big Jim say they would change Diego's bedclothes before settling him under the covers and the door was pressed closed in their faces. Then they turned down the hallway toward Don Alejandro's room.

Victoria went at once to sit on the side of the bed. She was very comfortable in this household. Taking the old man's hand in her own, she stroked it tenderly, willing the man to awaken so she could tell him the great news. She was not surprised when his eyelids flickered open a few seconds later.

"Victoria?" His voice was raspy from not having talked much in the last few days. "Is it true what they tell me? Is he alive?"

"Yes, Don Alejandro. Yes, it is true. We've brought him home to you. And you must get well and strong so you can go to him." She smiled down at him encouragingly.

He closed his eyes against the light. "My child, you had faith…when I had none. You …"

"Shh…rest…" She patted his hand as she saw the agitation in him grow.

"I gave up, you know."

"Please, Don Alejandro, it is not important now. Everything will be —"

"No, you don't understand." He tried to sit up in bed. He had to make her understand. "I wasn't thinking. I did something…I should never… the letter…"

She held him down, willing him to calm down and rest. "Don Alejandro, just rest. All will be well. Sleep. It is the best thing for you. Sleep." She felt him relax, but continued to stroke his hand.

His eyes flew open and he asked, "Did you tell him we opened the le—" His voice broke and he settled once more back into the pillows, mumbling, "He didn't believe it anyway…didn't believe…"

"Shh…shh…just sleep." Victoria was well aware that Maria was listening to every word. "You need your rest. There is no need to worry. It will all be well soon." She continued to soothe him until he drifted off to sleep once more.

"Maria, I think we might try to get some warm broth into Diego. It's been hours since he's had anything." She stood up and crossed to the door, knowing Maria would go before her to do her bidding.

"Yes, yes…is there anything else you need? Juice perhaps?" She thought for a moment as they walked down the hallway back toward Diego's room. "Or do you think a little wine would help revive him?" Doctor Hernandez recommended it for Don Alejandro…"

"Yes, bring some wine. I think any fluids right now will help," Victoria replied, thinking she might sample the wine herself. She was just about at her limit. All she wanted was to be behind those closed doors with Diego. Just him, and only him. And she hadn't realized just how much she had been counting on Don Alejandro to lighten her load. Now he had become another part of that load. And she was so very tired.

"Oh, Maria!" she called to the woman who was already on her way to the kitchen.

"Yes, Señorita?"

"Where's Felipe?"

"Oh, that Felipe! Señorita, since Don Diego left on his trip, Felipe has been going off to who-knows-where for days at a time. He only shows up for a meal here and there. I don't know what to do about him! Don Alejandro has been at his wit's end with the boy." She looked past Victoria to Don Alejandro's door and her face fell even further. "The whole household, Señorita, has been a sad one for so long."

"Yes, I know. If you see Felipe, send him to me." Then Victoria squared her shoulders and knocked on the door to Diego's room.

It opened inwardly and she let the other men file out before she entered, carrying the hand made litter. Big Jim remained and she watched as he arranged the covers on the bed for the greatest amount of decency for Don Diego.

"Where's Doctor Hernandez?"

"He went down to the kitchen to tell them how to prepare the food for Don Diego in the coming days."

"Did he say…" She wasn't even sure what to ask.

"He said rest and fluids. There's also some medicine he's got coming from Santa Paula that he'll bring later."

An awkwardness that had not been present between them settled itself in the room. After a few moments, Bi Jim excused himself. "Señorita, my men and I will make camp near the stream nearby. If you have any need of us, just send word by one of the vaqueros. I'll come."

"Thank you, Big Jim. I don't know what I would have done without you in all this." The man just nodded and left.

Then Victoria settled down in one of the big comfortable chairs, thankful it was over at last. All that needed to happen now was for Diego to awaken and return to full health. As she watched him sleep and saw the covers move up and down slightly as he breathed, she let herself relax fully for the first time in weeks. Her mind finally stilled and she fell asleep.

"What do you mean, pirates?" De Soto asked the question absentmindedly. He really had too much work in front of him to deal with these stupid reports of Mendoza and he continued to look at the papers in his hand to drive home the point to him.

"Pirates, mi alcalde! They're camped on the de la Vega land by the stream. We saw them this morning on patrol."

"Yes, well, then if there are pirates, I suggest you have your men arrest them and not bother me with this. Do you have no brain in your own head?"

"Si, mi alcalde, no, I mean no, mi alcalde… I mean…"

"Sergeant, are not pirates law-breakers?" He looked up sharply at the lancer.

"Si, mi alcalde," he said with relief, glad he knew the right answer.

"Then what do we do with law-breakers?" He inclined his head, trying to elicit the correct response. "We…?"

"We arrest them!"

"Fantastic! Now go do your job!" As the lancer saluted and turned to leave, De Soto returned to his paperwork and mumbled, "And leave me alone."

The reports in front of him were confusing and he had been trying to make sense of them for hours. The main subject of them was, of course, Zorro. The masked outlaw had not really interfered with any local doings for a few months. De Soto was hoping, of course, that something had happened to him. On the other hand, he wouldn't want anyone else to get credit for bringing the man to justice either. No, that was an accomplishment he wanted for himself.

The reports were from alcalde's in all the neighboring districts. Zorro had been seen only a few times since May. De Soto rifled through the papers to check. Yes, June 22nd, to be precise.

And on June 19th, his own report said that Zorro had acted a little strangely. He had freed a prisoner from the stocks out in the plaza. But he had done so at night with none of his usual fanfare, waiting until there was no guard present. The prisoner had been in the stocks all afternoon in the hot sun; it was actually a nice little trap for Zorro. The people had been a little upset, but then, that was fairly normal. The fact that Zorro had waited so long might indicate something was wrong.

De Soto laughed out loud. "He's finally come to his senses and knows who he is up against!" Shuffling the papers once more, he singled out the report of the last appearance of the bandit.

"Yes, yes…" De Soto mumbled as he read. A farmer on the outskirts of town reported seeing Zorro riding in the distance, but at a leisurely pace. "That was on September 4th… and on the 15th, I instituted the new luxury tax…and…" He searched the stack of papers for papers dated after that. There were none. "And Zorro did nothing!"

De Soto leaned back in his chair. The luxury tax was a brilliant idea on his part, mainly because he got to decide just what was a luxury. The threshold was very low. He had even decreed that the drinks served in the tavern were subject to the tax. After all, many could not afford them, therefore they were a luxury. "And you'd think that Zorro would have cared about that, at least. Since his lady love would be affected by it.

Yes, those were the only times that Zorro had been seen. "What's he up to?" De Soto mused and continued thinking about the habitual behavior of the outlaw. Maybe Señorita Escalante had not had a chance to appeal to her lover about the tax. "She left to search for young de la Vega about that time…"

De Soto spoke aloud to the picture of Machiavelli on the wall. "Diego…now, that was odd too. I can see his father going after him, or that fool of a boy, but Victoria! I thought she had a bit more sense than that." He chuckled. "Sense! Hah! What am I saying! She's in love with Zorro!"

A cloud passed over the face of the alcalde. "She's in love with Zorro," he said wonderingly. "Why would a woman go on a mad search for someone who was just a friend?" De Soto licked his lips and his eyes darted back and forth as his mind's eye played back scenes for him. Victoria and Zorro. Diego watching Victoria. Don Alejandro coming into his office with that odd letter…

"The letter!" De Soto jumped to his feet. "No, no, it just can't be!" He turned to the picture once more. "Zorro was seen since Diego's been missing." Scratching his head, he glanced once more at the report of Zorro freeing the man from the stocks. "Zorro would never let a man suffer in the heat like that man did that day. Maybe he knew it was a trap? No, no, he never seems to care if I've set a trap or not." De Soto sank back down in the chair. "He comes and goes at will around here," he said miserably and picked up the report. "But this day, he didn't. He avoided trouble rather than confronting it."

_Perhaps he has a helper!_

De Soto jumped. The thought seemed to come from the picture itself. But it was a thought he'd often had himself. Zorro had to have a helper, if only to feed him information. Then images began playing across his brain of the boy, the deaf mute, Felipe. "He's always underfoot, hanging around, making those infernal signs…that only _Diego_ can understand." Old suspicions surfaced and this time, they wouldn't be swatted aside.

The pieces fell into place.

His fist struck the desk with a savage force and he let go an unintelligible yell that vibrated the rafters.

"NO! He can't be dead! He was mine! MINE!" De Soto buried his face in his hands and was a total picture of despair when Mendoza ran back into the room.

"Alcalde! Alcalde!" Mendoza shouted at the top of his lungs.

De Soto was pulled from his thoughts.

"Diego de la Vega is alive! He's alive! They've brought him back from the sea. He's—"

"He's alive?" De Soto was joyous and turned to bow to the picture. "Mil gracias! Diego is alive!" Then he turned back to the sergeant. "How do you know this, Mendoza?"

"Some of the men just returned from the pirates' camp. They say he's already at the hacienda. He's very weak and not really awake yet, according to Captain Jarrett, but he'll be fine in no time."

"As long as he's alive, Mendoza! As long as he's alive!" De Soto slapped him soundly on the back, making him stumble forward.

"Alcalde?" Mendoza didn't quite expect such a reaction from the Alcalde and, at first, he thought he was being sarcastic. But the smile on the man's face belied that. No, he was truly happy Don Diego was alive.

Maybe he would overlook the soldiers not arresting the pirates. They had gone there to arrest them but the men had really done nothing wrong. They were just camping and had permission to camp on the de la Vega property. At least, that's what they claimed. It was possible to be a reformed pirate, wasn't it?

But De Soto was giving him new orders.

"…And you will place a man at the door of the bedroom and one man at every corner of the hacienda. Oh, and there should be someone watching the comings and goings of the stables as well. That horse is somewhere close by, of course. No matter, that boy will lead us to him. Just keep a man at his side every minute of every day."

"Alcalde? Do you mean we are to watch Don Diego? At the hacienda? But why?" Mendoza was confused.

"I mean, Sergeant, that he is to be placed under arrest. I don't care if he's in a coma! You put a man in the room with him, outside his door, outside every window. I want the entire hacienda under government authority."

"But why?"

"Because I said so, Sergeant. That's all you need to know!" He came around the desk and pulled on his gloves. "Now, get going!"

"Si, mi alcalde." Mendoza went from the room, shaking his head in bewilderment.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Don Alejandro left his bed the next morning. He was weak and needed help to get around, but his manservant was only too glad to give him aid. Before Victoria had even awakened in her place of vigil in the chair by Diego's bed, he was opening the door of his son's room.

"Victoria, child, have you slept there all night?" Don Alejandro was only slightly surprised.

"Oh, Don Alejandro, I…I…" She sat up, rubbing her eyes, trying to wipe away the fog of a deep sleep.

Don Alejandro sat down on the edge of the bed and felt of his son's forehead. "No fever. That's a good sign, at least," he said with relief. "But why does he still sleep?"

"Doctor Hernandez gave him something last night. Something," she glanced sideways at the manservant, "he said Zorro once gave to him. I think it might make him sleep. He's been very quiet all night. All the way here, he was rather restless. I think he was at least trying to awaken before." She bit her bottom lip. "It's got to be the new medicine."

"Zorro gave it to him?" Don Alejandro shot her a meaningful look. "Yes, then at least we can trust this new medicine." He stood unsteadily to his feet. "And if he's just going to sleep like this, I think we can leave him for a bit and go into breakfast, my dear. Please, I want you to join me. I appreciate your sacrificing your sleep by staying here through the night to watch over Diego, but I insist you take a little break from it for sustenance. I'll have Consuela come in and sit with him."

Victoria started to protest but then looked down at the peacefully sleeping man in the bed and reluctantly agreed. Consuela she could trust to call in case he stirred, and she could feel the emptiness in her stomach. Breakfast sounded good.

In the dining room, they helped themselves to the nice selection of hot dishes from the sideboard. Victoria was especially grateful for the strong coffee that helped her finally erase the last traces of sleepiness that seemed reluctant to give up its hold on her this morning. She wondered fleetingly if Doctor Hernandez had put something in her milk last night, then dismissed the thought. She was just tired; it had been a long, wearying journey.

But Alejandro was speaking and she had missed it all and had to ask him to repeat himself.

"I said that tonight you will sleep in the guest room. We can't have you doing that anymore. It will not look right if word should get out about it. And I will not have my future daughter-in-law talked about in the pueblo because of her devotion. I will see if Don Moreno's wife will come stay for a while if need be. Felipe or I can take turns with him, but there is no reason for you to take on the whole load of this."

"Daughter-in-law?" It was the one thing that stood out to her. "I think you are a little premature there, Don Alejandro. Diego hasn't even —"

"Now, Victoria, we both know what his intentions are concerning you." Don Alejandro smiled. "As soon as he is well, you had better start thinking about —"

"Don Alejandro, please! Let's not go so fast." She looked up as another of the serving girls came in and took up an empty dish. "We just need to get Diego well." Victoria's eyes followed the girl as she made her round of the room and went back out the door to the kitchen. "There's so much to discuss." She looked pointedly at the door the girl had just closed. Why did she feel that everyone was listening intently to every word they said?

Don Alejandro was nodding his head. He also had just been reminded that there were some things that could not be said easily inside the hacienda. "I think, Victoria, we should both go for a walk a little later on today. A stroll in the gardens would do us both good."

"Yes, I think so too. As long as someone is here to sit with Diego. I don't want him waking up to an empty room."

All that day, Diego slept without barely a move. Towards dusk, Victoria was back in the room once more and she had lit several candles about the room. They provided a warm glow as she checked and double checked Diego's breathing with every page she turned of her book. She was well aware that she was not really reading, but just staring at the pages and seeing the same words dance before her eyes over and over, almost mesmerizing her into a very relaxed state.

Muffled sounds of the hacienda settling down to nightfall reached her ears and she could hear the sounds of the wind in the trees outside the window. A storm was coming.

She put down the book and went to the window. Holding back the curtains to peer outside, she sighed deeply. The wind was definitely picking up and there was sheet lightning off in the distance toward the pueblo.

Feeling a small tinge of guilt about the tavern, she hoped it was faring well. It was odd. During all the time of trying to find Diego, getting him home and now nursing him, she had barely even given the tavern a thought. She'd left if in competent hands, of course. But the tavern was her livelihood, her life, her small world, and she had all but deserted it for Diego. Once, she could have understood doing all this for Zorro. But even though she knew the truth, it was really Diego she had done it all for now. Diego was now her life, her world. Zorro was beginning to be a sweet memory, a long ago dream. Had some part of her always known?

Thunder rumbled in the distance and continued for a few seconds before a crashing loud thunderbolt struck quite near. The whole room shook, and, almost immediately, the rain began. Victoria pushed the window shut with the curtains flaring out around her from a gust of wind.

"Victoria?" Diego's voice, raspy, weak and almost inaudible, still reached her ears, for she had been listening for it for so long.

She turned quickly to see his eyes, heavy-lidded but clear and bright, looking at her. She flew to his bedside.

"Diego!" Her eyes glistened as she grabbed his hand and held it to her cheek. "You're awake!"

"What… I don't….where…"

"Sh…shh…. Here, drink." She held a glass of water to his lips and helped raise his head so he could drink.

"Water," he finally said. "Do you know how much I've dreamed of this simple liquid?" Diego laughed softly and looked up into her eyes. "And of you?" The words escaped his mouth before he realized he'd spoken them aloud. He closed his eyes, wondering how he was going to explain them, but he found his thinking cloudy, fogged.

"Oh, Diego, you are safe now. You're home." Worry seemed to flicker across his face and she laid a hand along his cheek. "How do you feel?"

"If this is a dream, I —" He broke off and looked about the room. "I'm home?" The last he remembered, he had found water in a cave. How had he gotten home? The feel of her hand on his cheek was real. The feel of the bed beneath him was real as well. He was home.

"Victoria?" She still touched him and her eyes were full of the love he'd always seen in them as Zorro. "Victoria, —" He stopped, for he didn't even know what question to ask.

"Diego, I know," she whispered. "I know. Your father knows. You're home. You're going to get well and I love you." She smiled and bent forward to kiss him gently on the lips.

There was a slight hesitation on Diego's part before his own body responded for him. His arms went about her shoulders. The fingers of one hand entangled in her hair and his other hand went to her small waist. Her words settled in his mind as they kissed with all the pent-up passion of the months of separation. She knew. He didn't know how, but the important thing was she knew and she loved him still.

As the rain poured down and pattered against the window panes, Diego drank from her lips again, this time life-giving passion instead of mere water.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

By the next morning, the whole tale of the journey to find him had been relayed to Diego. That Felipe had felt the need to deliver the letters he'd written many years ago surprised Diego the most. At no time during his own ordeal had he himself thought he was near death. His natural optimism had prevented it.

There were many other times in his life he'd felt the cold hand of death more than during all this, but perhaps he'd been very wrong. The signs that his source of water was tainted had been there, and he'd ignored them. It was unlike him not to notice the finest details, especially when it could mean his very survival. He could only hope it was the lack of water in the first place that had caused his misjudgment.

Maybe it was all a warning. Maybe he had been Zorro long enough. Inattention to details could get him killed. It was a pity his voyage had never seen its end, for the pardon for Zorro looked more inviting than ever.

His thoughts raced on even as he tried to focus on Victoria as she spoke. Trying to rein them in, he reached up to touch her face, her hair. Just the feel of her brought him back to the present and stopped the worrying thoughts that hovered at the back of his mind.

"Where's Felipe?" he asked, interrupting her for the first time.

"I haven't seen him yet. Not since we returned. Consuela said he's been in and out so much since you've been away that it's difficult to keep up with him." The slight frown on his face caught her attention. "Do you want me to go look for him?"

"Well, I would like to know about Tornado." He twirled a lock of her hair around one finger and she reached up to close her hand upon his. "But I don't necessarily want you to go anywhere."

There came a soft knock on the door and both hands withdrew guiltily.

"Come in," Diego said hoarsely as he smoothed the covers and Victoria hastily retreated to her chair.

The door opened and Alejandro came in, leaning heavily on Consuela but with a huge grin on his face.

"Ah, Diego." He smiled happily as Victoria rose and Consula led him over to the comfortable chair.

"Now you sit there. And if either of you get too excited, you, Señor, will return to your room. I'll not have both of you having relapses on me!" Consuela fussed with the assurance of a long-retained family servant." She crossed to the bed to feel Diego's forehead before she left with a last stern look to both of the men who just shook their heads wearily.

Victoria could see that the two men needed to talk privately so she excused herself and left them to it.

She needed to find Felipe anyway. Diego had asked about Tornado and he was not going to let the subject rest until he was sure the horse was all right. She had also been wondering why Felipe had not been in to see Diego.

"Consuela!" She caught up to the woman in the hallway. "Consuela, have you seen Felipe?"

"No, Señorita, I haven't. That boy! He's so unpredictable. I don't even think he slept in his bed again last night. If you ask me, they let him get away with far too much for such a young one. In my day —"

"Yes, I'm sure things were very different, but do you know where he might be?"

"Well, he spends far too much time in the stables. Comes in at all hours, smelling of horses." She clucked her tongue at the thought.

"That's an idea. I'll check there." Before the woman could begin her harangue again, Victoria was out the front door and heading for the stables.

But Felipe was nowhere to be found. She had checked just about everywhere she could think of when the thought finally struck her. He's with Tornado. But where was that? Perhaps it was a place not even close by to the hacienda. She realized that there were still many things Diego had yet to tell her.

She was about to enter the house when she turned at the sound of approaching horses. Big Jim and Pepe hailed her as they dismounted.

"And how is the patient, Señorita?" Big Jim asked, shielding his eyes with a hand in the hot morning sun.

"Much, much better!" she was only too glad to reply. "He's awake, alert and after a few more days in bed, I'm sure he'll be back on his feet." She looked up at the big man shyly. "Big Jim, I don't know how I can ever thank you for all you've —"

"No need, Victoria. We were on the same mission. I would like to go in and see him and Don Alejandro before we pack up, and this one," he leaned over to ruffle Pepe's hair, "wants to see Felipe before we leave."

"You're leaving already?"

"Yes, it's time we headed for home. This area is a bit too hot for me and my men, if you know what I mean?" He said as he gave her a wink.

"Oh, yes, I suppose so." She remembered that he was a wanted man in some parts. "Well, Don Alejandro is with Diego in his room, but I haven't found Felipe yet."

"What do you mean?" The pirate stopped abruptly.

"I mean that no one's seen him since…well…I don't exactly know since when." She paused. "He didn't come home last night according to the housekeeper." She watched as Big Jim exchanged looks with Felipe. "You don't think there's something wrong, do you?"

"In this pueblo? Señorita, you should know better than I would. Pepe, do you —"

Pepe was already heading back to his horse. "I'll check around. I think I know the places he might be."

"Be careful!" Big Jim called after his son before making his way into the house after Victoria.

After seeing him to Diego's door, she excused herself and headed for the kitchen. Somehow she felt that the men might appreciate having their conversation without her.

Don Alejandro greeted the big man with a grateful hug. Diego's greeting was more subdued but no less meaningful.

"I owe you my life, Big Jim," Diego declared. "And I'm also in your debt for keeping Señorita Escalante safe during all this."

"Now that was no mean task. Do you know that little lady is just a bit headstrong?" All three men laughed heartily. "My men now think it's quite acceptable to take a woman aboard, as long as she can cook like the señorita."

"The way to all men's hearts, heh?" laughed Don Alejandro. "But you're leaving so soon? Why not stay around for a few days? There's plenty of room here. Even your men could bunk down with the vaqueros. There's really no trouble"

"No, no, I think we'll be going this afternoon. I can't afford the time, though I'd like to." He turned to the man in the bed. "Diego, I'm very glad you came round before I left. I wanted to tell you one thing. That little lady… you know _you_ should go about courting her. She's shown her true colors in going after you like that."

"Yes, Big Jim, I agree." Diego had not missed the slight emphasis on the word "you" and he looked intently at the pirate's face for a moment.

"Well, if you don't, I may come back and court her myself," he threatened with a laugh.

They talked for almost two hours before Big Jim finally said his goodbyes and left with Diego feeling just a trifle uneasy.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The pirates were busy breaking camp when Big Jim returned. A few hours later, a breathless Pepe rode into camp with news.

"Felipe is in jail!" he gasped out to his father. "The alcalde has arrested him!"

"Arrested Felipe? But why?"

"They say the alcalde thinks Felipe is Zorro!" The boy sank down onto a log near the extinguished firepit and someone handed him a canteen. He drank thirstily and went on, "The people that I talked to, they think the alcalde has lost his mind. Felipe can't be Zorro. Everybody knows that! He's too young, too little. Zorro is a big man."

"Surely the alcalde has to have some reason to arrest him."

"They said he was riding Tornado! So he must be Zorro if he was riding Zorro's horse!"

"Tornado!" Big Jim looked over at the brown stallion Franco had purchased in Santa Paulo. He had failed to find a black one. "Did they capture Tornado?"

"No, he ran off. Felipe must have been thrown. I'm not sure. I didn't get to talk to him, just the men milling about outside the jail."

Big Jim heaved a sigh of relief. So they didn't have Tornado.

"We have to find Zorro! He will save Felipe!" Pepe's voice was loud with excitement. "But where can we find him?" The boy's shoulders fell.

"Son, don't worry. We'll get him out of there. Trust me." He stooped down to pat the boy on the back, then rose quickly and called, "Franco!" When the man came close, he led him a little way away from the camp to speak to him. They walked downstream until they were out of sight of the camp.

"I want the men out of the area by tonight." As he continued giving his instructions to the man he trusted most among all his men, they both looked toward a soft whickering sound that came to them from even further downstream.

Tornado stood there, saddled, with head down, drinking from the clear water.

The two men looked at one another. "Looks like this is going to be a bit easier to pull off now," Big Jim said as Franco slowly approached the horse.

But it was not so easy. It took the two of them and several lumps of sugar before they could entice the horse to cooperate. Franco could do nothing with Tornado, despite his past experience with horses. But with some coaxing and a lot of patience, Tornado finally allowed Big Jim near him. As the pirate grabbed the loose rains firmly with his left hand, the horse calmed down nicely and nosed the man's right hand.

Big Jim whispered in the stallion's ear, "Yes, that's right, Tornado. You caught scent of your long lost master, didn't you, boy? Now you need to help me to help him. Understand? Good, good."

Big Jim's idea had been to make a few appearances, from a distance, as Zorro. Hopefully he could time them so that Diego de la Vega would be in attendance to throw off any suspicions that may have arisen in Diego's prolonged absence from the pueblo. Fearful that Diego's condition would preclude him from returning to his nightly masquerade with the vigor it would require, the pirate had planned to do this since before the _Tesero_ landed in San Pedro. With Zorro's reputation behind him, he would need to do little to give the pueblo a sense of their protector's presence.

Little did he realize then just how valuable his impersonation was now destined to become.

"You mean the tunnel Grandfather insisted they build for escaping Indian attacks? Why, I haven't thought of that in years! I thought it was sealed off when I was a child." Alejandro had to remind himself constantly as he talked with his son to keep his voice down. It wouldn't do to be overheard discussing such things.

"No, Father, it is still there. Well, actually they just carved out a connecting entrance to a natural cave under the rock formations at the back of the hacienda. Felipe and I worked very hard to convert it to a workable laboratory. There is a stall for Tornado. We built a doorway in the cave entrance that can be raised and lowered, planted vines above so they'd grow over it to conceal —"

"Oh my! And all that time, I was marveling at how lazy you could be!"

The door opened and Victoria came in with a tray laden with Diego's lunch. "Are you two still talking? I thought I told you, Don Alejandro, Diego needs to be resting." She looked at both of them sternly. "Doctor Hernadez said —"

"Doctor Hernadez is being overly cautious." Diego smiled up at her as she placed the tray on his lap and then helped plump up the pillow behind him. "I really feel much better. I don't see why I can't get up and —"

"I am _so_ glad to hear it!" The booming voice came from the doorway and all three heads turned to see Alcalde De Soto standing there smiling. They froze in place as the man strutted to the foot of the bed and announced, "For as soon as you are on your feet, you'll be able to walk up the steps of my gallows!"

"Alcalde, what are you talking about!" Don Alejandro had risen from his chair.

"You should know, Don Alejandro. It's your own words that condemned him." He laughed wickedly. "I must confess. I didn't believe it at first. But with the arrest of the boy, I have now finally worked it all out!"

"Felipe?" Victoria shrieked the name.

"Worked what out, Alcalde?" Diego asked calmly, his body tensing beneath the sheets.

"That you are truly what your letter and your father claimed — Zorro!"

"Zorro!" Diego laughed. "I'm surprised at you! But if you have arrested Felipe for some wild —"

"Oh, this is no 'wild' anything. I have you now." De Soto leaned down to rest his hands on the bed stead and said through clenched teeth, "No matter what tricks you try, no matter what lies you tell, I will see you hang!" The alcalde straightened and laughed loudly, triumph shining in his face.

Then he walked toward the door with all eyes following him and yelled down the hallway, "Men! I want two lancers at this door and at the window to this room twenty-four hours a day. If Diego de la Vega so much as steps a foot from that bed, I want him brought to the quartel!" Then he lowered his voice and addressed Diego once more. "Get well soon, Diego. I look forward to it."

As the alcalde vanished from the doorway, they could hear his hearty laughter resonating down the hallway.

Don Alejandro lowered his head and groaned. "Oh, Diego, what have I done?"

The three of them watched as the lancers took up their posts. The men faced outward from the room but were within easy hearing of any conversation that could take place inside the bedroom.

Don Alejandro held his head in both hands as he felt the full force of his betrayal of his own son.

"Father, what did you tell him?" Diego's voice was a whisper.

"Oh, Diego, I showed him your letter. Even in my grief, I was so proud and I wanted him to know what the letter told me. I boasted," he said miserably.

"The letters. I should have known. Why on earth did I write them!" Diego shook his head sadly.

"You wrote them because you wanted us to know." Victoria matched her own volume to the men's. "If you had died, I know I would have wanted to know."

"Yes, well, that may be, but since I am very much alive, they've proven to be very much of a problem. I should have foreseen such a situation."

"But what shall we do now?" She looked at him with utter confidence in her gaze. Diego would figure out a solution. He must! He was Zorro!

"I will make a deal with the alcalde," he said simply. "It is the only way. He will have to agree to let Felipe go and not to bring any actions against the two of you."

"In exchange for what?" his father said as he looked up quickly, alarm stealing across his face.

"In exchange for my cooperation, of course. Surely the alcalde will know he will need it." Diego said wryly, "I am Zorro, after all."

"That's right! And Zorro would not let himself be hanged! You must flee," Victoria whispered urgently. "Go tonight! Are you up to it? Can you —"

"Flee?" Diego repeated, surprised at her sudden turn from despair to desperation.

"Querida, yes, I _am_ Zorro and that is precisely why I cannot flee. Zorro stands for more than cowardice, I hope." Diego looked down at his own hands. "I am prepared to face what I must. But I cannot allow my family or the woman I love to be in danger because of what I chose to do with my life." He lifted his eyes to Victoria's. "Victoria, please, you must go. I need to get dressed." Without waiting for her to comply, he looked up at his father. "Father, my brown suit, I think. It is rather somber for a hanging." Diego gestured toward the wardrobe.

Victoria and Don Alejandro exchanged looks of disbelief.

"Son, you can't mean to just —"

"Yes, I do. Father, this time, there's no other way. In order for you both to live through this, it seems I must not. Now, I will need your help. Please, Father." He lifted the covers and swung his legs off the bed. "Victoria, I want you to go to Padre Benitez. Ask him to come to see me in the jail. I would like to make you a de la Vega in name and fortune beforehand. And afterwards, he will need —"

"Oh, Diego!" Victoria released her tears. "I can't believe you — "

"Please!" He took her hand and kissed it, but he would not allow himself to look into her eyes. "Victoria, just do as I ask."

"Very well," she began. "But I can't believe you're giving up so easily. The Zorro I knew would not have. The Zorro I knew would have —"

"The Zorro you knew was really only I, Diego de la Vega, in disguise, Victoria. No extraordinary man, just plain Diego, a man you ignored on a daily basis." Diego pursed his lips. "I've often thought that you, of all people, put Zorro on too high a pedestal."

"Diego, that's not fair," his father spoke up as Victoria fought to control her sobs. "Zorro has been —"

"I'm sorry, Father. Victoria, forgive me, but if I'm going to do this with any grace, I need to do it quickly." He forced himself to look up and into her eyes. "Please. Do this for me, for Zorro." He licked his lips nervously and then said, "Go!"

Victoria wrestled her eyes from his and turned to open the door. She pushed her way past the two lancers and ran down the hallway toward the door. Her eyes were dry and the look on her face was sheer determination. She would do his bidding, but she would also pray for some miracle to save her one true love from the gallows.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

The lancers slowly led the way into the pueblo. The plaza was thick with people and the horses had to pick their way cautiously through the crowd. All faces were locked on Diego de la Vega as he sat astride his own horse and rode with lancers flanking him on both sides and to the front and rear. The rumors of his death were still fresh in everybody's minds. The tale of his survival of a horrible shipwreck had only circulated in the past few days. Now the newest revelation, that he was Zorro, was rapidly being relayed from one person to the next as the sound of the hammers finishing the gallows filled the air.

Diego said nothing but dismounted easily from the horse though his hands were bound. He walked calmly behind the lancers and into the quartel, disappearing from the sight of the waiting people. A buzz of conversation began immediately.

"It can't be!"

"Not de la Vega's son. Why, he's not the type."

"Impossible!"

"The alcalde has lost his mind!"

"I knew it all along!"

"There must be some mistake!"

The crowd silenced as Victoria and the Padre were spotted walking from the church. The path before them cleared as the people nodded respectfully. Then they disappeared into the quartel also.

An hour passed. The sun was sinking low in the sky but the crowd stayed, waiting. The only sounds now were hushed whispers.

When Don Alejandro de la Vega was seen approaching through the pueblo gates, even the whispers quieted. The caballero was followed by at least twenty of his fellow caballeros from nearby haciendas. It was truly an impressive sight. Almost every influential man in the area was making a show of support for the de la Vega family.

"It is about time!" said one of the peons.

"But is it too late?" said another.

Don Alejandro stopped before the gallows. As soon as his heels hit the dirt, the alcalde came out of the doors of his office. De Soto was dressed in his finest military coat and plumed hat. He was squinting in the late afternoon sun, but his smile was brilliant.

"De la Vega! You've come to see your son hang. How nice!" De Soto laughed and the crowd began to grumble.

"You're making a mistake, De Soto. We will not let you go through with this."

"And just how are you going to stop me? Hm?" De Soto laughed. "I am about to hang a vicious criminal. I am doing my duty for crown and country. I would think your friends would all be proud of the job I am doing."

One of the other caballeros rode forward and declared. "De Soto, we have all decided to intervene in —"

"Intervene?" De Soto laughed. "Surely you don't wish to join de la Vega!"

"No, we wish to stop this!" Don Hector rode forward and shouted, "Alcalde, this is illegal. You cannot hang a man without a trial."

"In this case, I can. Zorro is a known criminal. He needs no trial."

"This man is not Zorro!" Don Esteban shouted. "This is young de la Vega! The whole idea that he is Zorro is preposterous!"

"Yes, it is insane!"

"It is wrong!" Several caballeros joined in, shouting their own condemnations.

"We are relieving you of your duties as alcalde of —"

"You have no authority over me! I was appointed by the King of Spain!" the alcalde bellowed. "I cannot be removed by any less than the King himself." De Soto laughed again and looked at each of the mounted caballeros in turn. "Now, Go! Before I have a mind to hang the lot of you as well!"

The alcalde turned back to the lancers standing behind him. "Bring out the prisoner! He has had enough time to tie up his affairs." De Soto turned back to the caballeros. "Do not _ever_ presume to gather together against me again. This is collusion, sedition even! I will not have it. My authority is absolute in this pueblo. You have all only succeeded in making an enemy of me this day!"

It was Felipe that came through the doorway first. He ran toward Don Alejandro and the two embraced soundly, the boy burying his head in the older man's chest.

De Soto watched with unhidden glee and leaned forward only to warn, "Be careful, de la Vega. Any more trouble from you or your _friends_," he said the word with a sneer, "and I'll put the boy back in my jail for aiding and abetting. I am sure he has been guilty of it."

Don Alejandro glared momentarily at the man but his attention was diverted when his son walked out of the jail doorway with Victoria following close behind him. "Diego," he breathed and closed his eyes in a silent prayer. It was at moments like these when a person usually prayed for Zorro to show up and save the day. But now, it was Zorro who needed saving.

"Take care of her, Father," Diego said quietly and placed her hand in that of his father. His mother's ring now sparkled on her wedding finger. A very hurried wedding had taken place inside the jail cell before the prayers of last rights had been said for Diego as a condemned man.

"Sergeant!" De Soto yelled.

Mendoza gave the signal and one of the lancers who stood in front of the gallows with a drum began a low drum roll. The sound echoed throughout the plaza.

"De la Vega?" De Soto made a large sweeping gesture toward the wooden stairway leading up to the gallows. "If you please?"

Diego inhaled deeply and cast one last, longing, loving look back at Victoria who held her own eyes steady. She would be strong as he had asked her to be. No tear fell down her cheeks. She tried to exude her own strength through her gaze to him. But as soon as he turned away, her eyes wavered. She only hoped she would not faint.

He mounted the steps lightly. It might be Diego de la Vega facing the noose, but it was with the spirit of Zorro that he would meet it. He could not help letting a smile steal slowly across his face. This didn't seem real. It was like a dream, a horrible nightmare. Perhaps he was still on the island, hallucinating from lack of water. Or perhaps a coconut had hit him on the head and he was…

But one glance down at his father's face and Victoria's and his smile became forced. He would not shame them with a display of regret.

"Lancers! Ready?" De Soto was relishing the moment. His look was maniacal, his bearing totally militaristic. He was truly enjoying this.

Diego stepped up onto the platform, took another deep breath and stepped forward to the coiled, looped rope. The masked hangman passed the loop over his head and adjusted the rope tightly about his throat.

Diego turned to the man and said lightly, "I'm sorry, I forgot your payment. You'll have to get it from my father." For good measure, and in the manner of the man he was about to be punished for being, he gave the man a wink.

The hangman stepped back a pace. He had been brought in from San Diego and had not expected to be hanging the legendary Zorro. He had doubted this man was truly the famous outlaw. Now, he had no doubt of it. Something inside of him protested at what he was about to do. He looked down at the alcalde, sure the wrong man was about to be hanged.

De Soto nodded significantly and shouted up at the hangman, "It is time!"

The drum stopped suddenly. The man reached for the lever.

Suddenly, the sound of an explosion came from the gates of the pueblo. All heads turned as one and relief blanketed the crowd.

Zorro reared high on Tornado framed by the archway, with the dark blue of the sky behind him.

"Alcalde! the masked man shouted, you're hanging the wrong man!"

Diego's mouth fell open in shock and he looked down at Felipe.

Felipe's head turned back and forth several times as he looked at Diego, then Zorro, then back at Diego once more.

Don Alejandro grabbed at his heart before turning to catch Victoria as she swooned and fell forward.

The crowd erupted in cheers. The men lifted closed fists aloft, and the caballeros fought to control their horses, spooked by the noise.

De Soto froze, his face a mask of indecision. He, too, looked from the black-clad outlaw to Diego and back to Zorro again. _It can't be! I was so sure! _His thoughts were in chaos.

But Zorro was there, as plain as the setting sun, at the gates, waving in delight. If nothing else, the horse was definitely Tornado, and that meant the man had to be Zorro.

In an instant, the alcalde made up his mind. He turned to his lancers and yelled at the top of his lungs, "After him! Lancers! To horses! To arms! Arrest Zorro!"

Then the people erupted in laughter as the lancers struggled to load their muskets. They had gathered for a hanging not a firing squad.

De Soto was livid. He ran from one lancer to the next, shouting orders and flailing his arms. But his men were relieved and trying to cover their own joy that the hanging had been spoiled. None of them had relished the idea of hanging Don Diego anymore than they would have Zorro. De Soto watched in dismay as his men took longer than they would normally to complete the simple act of loading their muskets.

Zorro's laughter echoed through the plaza. He reared high on Tornado once more, waved, and galloped away with many members of the crowd flowing to the gates to cheer him onward.

A few lancers managed to get mounted and they headed for the gates. But they moved slowly and with hesitation, looking back for their leader as they waited for him to go before them.

De Soto was having trouble mounting his own horse. Laughter followed every inept move. He missed the stirrup twice and then fumbled as the reins kept slipping from his grasp. When one boot finally caught in the stirrup and he raised himself up, the horse spun in circles and threw the irate alcalde sprawling in the dirt. De Soto fumed all the more. Finally, he was mounted and ready, and the troops hung back, letting him take the lead toward the gates.

The crowd watched with satisfaction as the dust swirled behind the hooves of the troop of lancers. They would never catch Zorro. He had already disappeared over the horizon.

Mendoza, who had managed to avoid being in the alcalde's line of sight, mounted the steps of the gallows two at a time. He was all smiles as he loosened the noose around Diego's neck and slipped it off his head. "I knew you weren't Zorro!"

Diego looked confused as he said vaguely, "Isn't it good to know?" and looked toward where the masked outlaw had vanished in the distance, followed by De Soto and his lancers. "Sergeant?"

"Yes, Don Diego?"

"I don't think I can —"

Before he finished the sentence, Diego collapsed to the floor of the platform.

"Diego!" Victoria cried, and she ran up the steps to kneel by his side. Don Alejandro called for Doctor Hernandez before joining her.

Diego's face was wet with sweat and his breathing was shallow. Victoria cradled him gently, smiling with relief. "You're alive, Diego," she whispered, "and I am so grateful to Zorro, whoever he was…today."

Before many minutes passed, several of the caballeros soon were helping to carry Diego toward the mission hospital.

"Zorro indeed!" one of the peons whispered as they passed. Several heads nodded in agreement. Don Diego was much loved, but as for him being Zorro? Who could believe such a thing!

Gradually the crowd melted away as the shadows grew and night fell.

Author's notes: Here's a big "Thank you" to all who have reviewed this story. It does help so much to keep someone like me motivated to continue to write.

CW — I almost changed the ending of the story because of your suggestion. If I hadn't already finished it, I would have gone that way! But since finishing a story seems to be my weakness, I thought I'd better stick to the ending I had.

Thethirdtroll — I think I like being labeled "evil" for some reason. I suppose I am in good company since you think Tammy is evil. And I do think there must be a rule that Zorro fanfiction writers have to be cruel to Diego. It comes so naturally to say "Poor Diego." I just love your reviews.

And, in case you're wondering, there's only one more chapter….


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

When Diego finally awoke, three days had passed. He was very confused at first, for most of the past few days' reality had blurred with his dreams. His memory was fogged and there was a constant pounding of drums in his head.

"But who was it?" he had demanded the first time he was alone with Victoria.

"I don't know, but I'm certainly grateful he showed up when he did. Just like Zorro!"

"But _I_ am —"

"Shhh!" She looked around toward the door.

"It all seems so unreal." Diego shook his head slowly from side to side. "It is difficult to remember what was real and what was a dream."

"Are you sure you're not pretending, Diego?" Victoria asked coyly.

"Pretending! Now why would I do that?" he asked as he sipped the broth from the spoon she offered.

"Well, if you're trying to get out of being married to me," she smiled at him, "I've got witnesses and proof!" She held up her left hand and wiggled her fourth finger.

"Oh, that I remember!" He obediently swallowed another spoonful. "But a jail cell wedding. It just won't do, you know. I think we should do that part over. I am not sure my father will be satisfied with it now."

"You father doesn't care as long as he gets some grandbabies out of the deal!" she said as she fed him another spoonful and he almost choked.

"Oh, really! Now you're both talking that way!" he said indignantly.

"Oh, so it's fine to plan on having them, just not to talk about having them?" She stuck another spoonful in his mouth before he could answer.

"Something like that…" Diego said after swallowing. He held up his hand. "Please, no more." He laid back into the pillows.

"Well, you have been rather good today. Maybe Doctor Hernandez will let you go back to the hacienda tomorrow."

"Yes, I hope so. And will you be going there too?"

"We will see. If there's to be another wedding, maybe I should wait." Her eyes held some mischief.

"I think we've waited long enough." He reached for her hand. "If nothing else, almost getting hanged accomplished this." He touched the ring on her finger and smiled up at her. "And it has shown the entire pueblo that somehow you now prefer me over Zorro. Maybe the alcalde has done us a favor."

"A favor! He nearly made me a widow before I got to be a wife."

"You are a wife." He squeezed her hand.

"No, I am a bride. You have to recover completely before you can make me a wife." She put the broth aside on the bedside table and gave her husband a long, long kiss.

Late the next afternoon, Diego came home to the welcome of a full staff of servants. It was several hours before the house had quieted down enough for Diego to finally show his father and Victoria the secret of Zorro's cave. They left their desserts and coffee on the table, and Diego and Felipe led the way through the secret panel in the fireplace and down into the passageway leading to the cave.

Diego showed them around and answered their questions. As he approached Tornado, he noticed a cloth bag hanging from the saddle horn. Felipe grinned as he took it and handed it to Diego. Opening the bag, he found a note. The others stood silently as he read it.

"It's from Jim Jarrett," Diego said incredulously as he looked wonderingly at Tornado. "'Zorro, Thanks for the loan of your horse.' So that explains it." He let Tornado nuzzle his hand. "And you let him ride you, boy? Amazing!"

Felipe tugged at the bag. "Oh, yes." Diego looked back at the note. "'In payment, a souvenir of your travels, Jim Jarrett.' "

"A souvenir?" his father asked.

Diego reached into the bag and withdrew a large coconut. Surprise caused him to drop it and it barely missed his foot. Diego groaned. "That pirate has a sick sense of humor."

"A coconut!" Victoria stooped to pick it up off the floor. "Now why would he…"

"Because he was shipwrecked too, once. He knows what these things can come to mean to you."

Victoria tried to hand him the coconut.

"No! No! I don't care if I ever see another one of those as long as I live!" Diego backed away and said, "Those things are alive! Deadly even! You have no idea!"

"Diego it's only a coconut!" Victoria said.

"Only a coconut! Suffering from dehydration, sunburn and poisoning, I climbed painfully high for those things! Fell, climbed again and wrestled trying to get those down to the ground. Then as soon as I finally had a nice pile, one falls at my feet. It could have killed me! The alcalde could use those things for weapons!"

They all laughed at his overreaction. Victoria rolled her eyes and his father said, "Well, this is all fascinating, but our coffee is getting cold. Shall we go back to the dining room?"

Felipe and Victoria were still giggling as Diego led them back through the passageway.

"What's so funny?" her new father-in-law asked.

"You didn't notice?" Victoria whispered her answer. "Maria's dessert – it's coconut cream pie!"

THE END


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